Warg Maiden
by Silent Wolf Singer
Summary: She was intended to be the next Three-Eye Raven, a warg from the Dire Tribe. But she was more wolf than a raven. A hunter rather than an observer. Rejected from her true fate, Imogen must take the knowledge she has gained from the Children to stop an imminent threat, the White Walkers. However, a Crow is in the way.
1. Prologue

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

_**Summary: She was intended to be the next Three-Eye Raven, a warg from the Dire Tribe. But she was more wolf than a raven. A hunter rather than an observer. Rejected from her true fate, Imogen must take the knowledge she has gained from the Children to stop an imminent threat, the White Walkers. However, a Crow is in the way.**_

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**Prologue**

It started as a typical day for Ser Waymar Royce. He was woken up in his cold room where his bunkmate snores vibrated through the room. He began praying to the New Gods to bless him on his assignment outside the confines of Castle Black. Sometimes he wonders why he joined the Black. Ser Waymar was no prisoner, nor a criminal. He'd never stole a loaf of bread, murder anyone, or raped a maiden. The last two, his father Lord Yohn Royce would've kill him himself, if his youngest son ever did such an atrocity that smeared the Royce name. No, Waymar was the third son of Yohn, even with his title of knightlihood, there was barely anything he could inherit when his father meets their maker. He was a skilled Warrior, trained by the best Masters-of-arms in the Vale. Sadly, there hasn't been any wars, not since the Greyjoy Rebellion.

So, Ser Waymar Royce decided to join the Night's Watch. When he made that decision, Lord Royce sat him down for a serious discussion, knowing the consequences when taking the Black. When one considers the Black, he can never marry, can never father children, nor own lands. A celibate life…well not entirely celibate since the men would sneak off to Mole's Town to wet their peckers. Yet, it was an adventure. Ser Waymar needed experience, and Lord Royce knew his youngest son was an adventurer. So, together, father and son headed North, stopping at Winterfell as an honored guest. Although honorable when a noble takes the Black, Waymar sadly has a behavior of arrogance. Luckily Lord Commander Jeor Mormont smacked the self-entitlement out of the young man along with Benjen Stark. The arrogance needed some work, but Waymar learned and earned his place as a Ranger. Including his birth status had some help with that.

By early morning in the shieldhall, Ser Waymar heard talk about sightings of wildlings being spotted on the other side of the Wall. Lord Commander assigned Ser Waymar to lead a small band to scout through the Haunted Forest and give a report. A simple scouting missions. The fellow Night's Watchmen joining him were Gared and Will.

Gared was one of the few Night's Watchmen, having taken the Black since he was a boy and spent forty years of his life as a ranger. Gared was slightly offended that Jeor chose Ser Waymar to lead the expedition, but his old friend assures him, that Ser Waymar needed some experience and to report how the young man did. A test. Gared accepted that while muttering into his ale. The second one, was the definition of a Greenhorn, was Will, although Will had four years in the Night's Watch, one year over Ser Waymar, the man was timid. Will did not volunteer to take the Black willingly, no he was a poacher, illegally hunting in House Mallister's woods, till the Lord's free-rider caught him skinning a buck. Instead of losing a hand, Will took the Black. During his first year, Will was terrified of going beyond the Wall, scared of the stories and the savagery of the wildlings.

Especially the recent accounts of the Wildling Huntress. Some of the Rangers crossed paths with a wildling who rides a great beast of black fur. Pale skin, dark eyes, and a spear in hand. Those who encounter her received a scar from the devilish woman as her minion pinned the men down, while she takes a dagger and carves a spiral on their skin.

So, when they got on their horses, Gared comforted Will saying that the Huntress is only ever spotted beyond the Wall pass the Haunted Forest. No one dares cross paths with her.

Therefore, they waited at the Wall's Gate, Gared and Will holding the torches while Ser Waymar was at the front. Once the Gate was lifted, they entered through the tunnel traveling along the icy carved passage. The Wall was built by Bran the Builder during the age of the First Men. Commonly known as the Age of Heros. One of the many wonders of the world, questioning if one man built the Wall in a single lifetime or his descendants who held the same namesake. Creating a Wall made entirely out of ice to separate Westeros from the Others. No one knows or remembers who the Others were, except the Wildlings.

By the time they reached the other side, the air had become colder — Summer Snow on one side and artic wasteland on the other. Gared and Will tossed their torches in a brazier, then waited, before heading off into the Haunted Forest. Find the Wildling raiders and head back to report. An hour passed when Ser Waymar decided to split up. The two men nodded, going their separate ways.

Will continued onward, yet his horse started to become anxious. He tried comforting the creature, until spotting smoke up ahead. A fire was lit. Thus, Will dismounted, taking the reins to secure the horse before crawling on his stomach along the small hill to investigate the camp. What he saw bewildered him. Instead of seeing a band of wildlings either asleep or resting, or better yet an abandoned camp, he saw a massacre. Bodies tore from limb to limbs, and heads mounted on small spikes. All around the limbs were assembled to form some ancient rune design.

There was only one body who stood alive. A tall figure, with dark hair wearing a black fur cloak. The individual was wearing a mask in the shape of a wolf's head. The individual knelt trying to remove the heads from the small spikes. As if the person was trying to rearrange the corpses. Will couldn't figure out if the Wildling caused this monstrosity or is trying to put deceased back together for burial. A sound of a bird caught their attention, Will, looking up from the trees saw a Snowy Owl who was glaring at him — the individual looked at the Snowy Owl before snapping their head towards Will.

Terrified, he stood up, stumbling backward when something pressed against his back. Will jumped, turning around seeing a poor wildling child pinned to a tree. As if somebody had the strength to lift the child and stab her into the branch. Let alone the savage in the massacre.

Disturbed and scared, Will ran fast as he could to get Ser Waymar and Gared. Knowing they will not believe him unless they see it for themselves.

**.o0o.**

"What do you expect? They're savages" Ser Waymar sarcastically told Will. "One lot steals a goat from another lot, before you know it, they're ripping each other to pieces."

"I've never seen Wildlings do a thing like this," Will exclaimed. "I never seen a thing like this, not ever in my life."

"How close did you get?" Ser Waymar asked, adjusting the saddle of his horse.

"Close as any man would," Will answered. "Especially the one wearing the wolf masked."

"It's probably the Dire tribe," Gared said. "We should head back to the Wall."

Ser Waymar face his men, "Do the dead frighten you?"

"Our orders were to track the wildlings," Gared reminded. "We tracked them. They won't trouble us no more."

"You don't think Mormont'll ask us how they died?" Ser Waymar asked. "That one Dire killed an entire band? Get back on your horse."

Gared huffs, despising the arrogant knight while muttering under his breath.

Will came over to Ser Waymar, "Whatever did it to them could do it to us. They even killed the children."

"It's a good thing we're not children." Ser Waymar sarcastically replied. "You want to run away south, run away. Of course, they will behead you as a deserter, if I don't catch you first. Get back on your horse. I won't say it again.

Will, afraid for his life, conceded. Not sure what is worse, Ser Waymar, the Night's Watch, the Dires, or the unknown. Unable to defy orders, he went back on his horse leading the way. By the time they reach the fire was still blazing; however, the camp was not the same as Will had left it. In fact, the camp was entirely different. There was nobody, no blood on the snow. Even the snow appeared to be untouched. All three rangers had their swords ready for nothing.

Ser Waymar turned to Will, and sarcastically said, "Your dead men seem to have moved camp."

"They were here," Will mumbled in disbelief.

Gared, who thinks it was a wildling trick turned to the young man, "See where they went."

Will nodded, making his way back to the horses while Gared and Ser Waymar investigate the grounds to check if they can find tracks. Unaware of a Snowy Owl watching from above. The forest was silent, except for the echoing noises of animals. Gared knelt, tossing over small piles of snow hoping to find something. In one pile, he found a torn scarf that was red. Gared found it strange since Wildlings don't know how to produce dyes and colors, relying on the fabrics that animals' furs and skins could provide. So, where in the Seven Kingdoms would a red scarf be doing up here. Thus, he picked it up, only to discover the scarf was not red because of dyes…no…it was stained with blood.

Ser Waymar turned around from the tree where the fire was and noticed the red scarf, "What is it?"

Little did the knight known of the massive pile of snow near the fire began to rise. Taking the form of a massively tall man, pale skin that seemed to be carved from ice, with vibrant blue eyes. Gared who knelt there saw this, seeing a creature like no other. He gasped, lost for words. Ser Waymar, confused, turned around only to be met by a sword made of ice slicing through his upper body. Before he could comprehend what happened, his upper body slid off from his lower body onto the ground. Gared screamed in horror, standing up to run away.

Meanwhile, Will once reaching the horses thought he saw someone hiding behind the trees. He also noticed a trail of footprints. Curious, he follows the person. Staying quiet, thinking the individual was oblivious of his presence. It wasn't until he heard a scream followed by the horses neighing in distress until two of the three horses started charging away almost trampling him. Will got back up, wiping the snow off his cloak when he spotted the little girl from before standing there with her back to him. She turned around slowly, opening her eyes, revealing them to be icy blue. Impossible, yet she stood there with a hole in her chest. Terrified, Will started to run. He was running for his life while hearing a snarling echo amongst the trees. He saw a figure up ahead and stopped, only to realize it was Gared.

Gared stopped spotting Will only to make a mistake as the White Walker that killed Ser Waymar grabbed him by the head and decapitated him with the ice sword. Will stood there in horror, watching the monster holding Gared's head as his body fell. The White Walker made a cackling noise, turning to address Will marching towards him. Will, frozen with fear, could not move, just as the White Walker tossed the head onto his feet.

It happened so fast, but the person with the wolf mask appeared out from the trees landing between them. The person drew their spear as the spearhead was massive. The spearhead was not made of iron like most Wildling weapons. Instead, it was made out of stone, almost holding a resemblance to black glass…obsidian. The White Walker stepped back, making a cackling noise.

"Run," the person said, sounding female.

"Wh—" He couldn't say the words.

"Run!" She shouted. "Tell them what you saw and run!"

The White Walker suddenly charged at them. The Wildling twirled her spear going on the defensive as both crystal blades collided. A clashing sound echoed off from the two gems as if their center cores were trying to figure out its opponent's origin.

"Run, you fool!" She yelled again, trying to keep the White Walker back.

Will, still in shock, got up and ran.

He did not look back, as he heard the sound of a duel behind him. He did not turn around when hearing cries of agony and pain. But most of all, he did not turn around when hearing an inhuman shriek and shattering.

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**What do you all think?**

**So, you know I am currently working on two other stories at the moment. _A Doe in a Lion's Den_ and _Sister's Keeper._ Updates for this story won't be as frequent as the other two until I finish them up. ADIALD is almost completed. I also have another GOT story called the Other Lannister Sister. Yeah. GOT is on my mind. **

**Thank you so much for reading and please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 1: Fiery and Dark Hair Maidens

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Edited xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

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**Chapter 1: Fiery and Dark Hair Maidens**

_Ygritte's POV_

It happened long ago. It was winter, then again, it was always winter. Has been winter for almost eight-thousand years. The Dire Tribe was stopping by to do trade at Rudy Hall. The Dire Tribe were from the rare parts where the weather was slightly warm in the True North. Although, where it is at, no one knows for sure. Only a Dire will know. But like the animals they bond with, they travel all around doing trade now and then. Why they are called the Dires is simply because of one thing…direwolves. For some reason, the Dires knew how to bond with direwolves. Many assume it's because the Dires are populated by Wargs, making the connection between man and beast so quickly.

One group that came was the one Ygritte is excited to see as the Chief would bring his daughter, Imogen. Imogen was the same age as her. So, when the Dires came to the camp, Ygritte abandons her chores looking around in search of her friend. The Dires only stayed for a short time, a week or two at most. The young girl scavenged about until spotting the girl with dark hair chasing after a small pup.

"Imogen!" Ygritte called out.

The girl stumbled tripping over the small pup and into the snow. Ygritte giggled as she came over to help her friend. She was also wiping the snow off her leathers and furs. Afterward, the fiery girl hugged the dark-haired girl. Imogen chuckled as she hugged her friend in return.

"You made it," Ygritte said.

"Had to wrestle Papa's leg to be here," Imogen giggled.

Imaging Imogen clinging to Chief Fenrir like a toddler Ygritte giggled as well, then stopped when feeling small paws on her leg. She looked down, seeing the Direwolf, a puppy who finished the imprinting state with its mother. Its fur was black, while its eyes were of two different colors, one blue and one yellow. Ygritte knelt picking the puppy up.

"And who is this?" Ygritte asked.

"This is Skadi," Imogen said. "She bonded with me twenty days ago."

In the Dire Clan, when the children come of age on their tenth year, they shall receive their direwolf by choice. Of course, the child does not choose the direwolf; the direwolf chooses you. There would be times a Dire would not receive their wolf until they are older or a wolf from another Dire who's owner passed away to seek another companion. Chief Fenrir's wolf, Valko used to belong to the Chief's father. Direwolves can live for a long time. Seven years seem like one year to the direwolves even though they grow rapidly during their first two years.

The girls knelt and started playing with Skadi. As they try to teach the pup new tricks. They managed to get Skadi to roll over as the fresh snow clings to the black fur. Skadi stood up and shook, tossing the snow all about covering the two girls. They shriek from the cold snow striking their cheeks before laughing. It was a simple time.

_CAW!_

The girls looked up, seeing a small blackbird on the totem. It was not like the usual birds that fly about, mostly being hawks and owls, or the eagles on these parts in the True North. It watched them with beady black eyes. Imogen scowled at the bird. She formed a snowball and tossed it. The blackbird quickly dodged before returning to its position.

"Damn bird," Imogen muttered.

"What about the bird?" Ygritte asked.

"It's been following me and my dreams lately," Imogen muttered.

"You better be nice to the Raven," Fenrir said, as he came over.

"Raven?" the girls asked.

"That's what they are. Bigger than crows and much wiser too." Fenrir explained. "If not messengers of death. There is one raven you should watch out for. And that is the Three-Eyed Raven."

"Why?" Ygritte asked.

"He is the last of the greenseer, a deity that has greensight and wargs but has no vessel. Every hundred years he seeks a new host, teaching them all of the worlds before becoming one. Many wargs and greenseer wonder and fear if they'll be the one for such honor," Fenrir told.

"Just a bunch of shit," Tormund said, patting Fenrir on the back. "A blackbird with three-eyes."

"Says the man who thinks he's holy," Fenrir countered.

"The sun's fire kissed my hair," Tormund replied proudly.

"Oh, I thought you smeared the blood of your enemies in those locks," Fenrir jest at the young man.

Tormund barked a laugh.

Fenrir shook his head and patted Imogen shoulder, "Come help me set up camp. You can play with your friend later."

"Yes, Papa," Imogen said and hugged Ygritte.

Ygritte hugged her back.

This was the last visit of the two weeks Ygritte saw Imogen before returning to their village. During the time the girls played, something happened to Imogen. They were chasing Skadi when Imogen's grey eyes rolled to the back her head, and she stood paralyzed. Ygritte was nervous, calling for help. Fenrir came overseeing her daughter falling to the ground while Skadi was acting up, seeing the multicolor wolf eyes being grey. Realizing his daughter was warging, as her sudden attempt happens with Skadi was normal. He helped his daughter back to her body, being a warg himself. Afterward, he thought it was best to take Imogen home in a safe, familiar environment.

That would be last time Ygritte saw Imogen as a girl. She understood being a warg is a taxing gift. Sadly, something happened that put the Dire Clan in a frenzy. Imogen went missing a year after. There was a blizzard. One minute she was next to Chief Fenrir, and the next she was gone. The Dire Clan went in search, and when a cub is taken from the Dire Clan, you better be prepared for the violence, they can use to find what they want.

Five years Imogen went missing.

Ygritte felt like she lost a sister.

When she became a spearwife, going on her hunts, she kept an eye out in hopes to find her friend. Sadly, as the years passed, a new threat appeared. It started off with the sick and elderly. They died from natural causes yet awaken with vibrant blue eyes like ice, their skin cold as ice. When they started to attack, loved ones defended themselves taking blades stabbing their loved one's corpse except they kept moving no matter how grievous the wound. Until tripping into fire pits or hit by torches. The legends they grew up on for eight thousand years they began to worry for the Dead. That was when Mance Rayder appeared.

A Wildling born whose parents were Crow and Free Folk. His Father took a Free Woman and abandoned them. Mance grew up as a wildling until the Crows raided his village. They took the boy in, raising him as a Crow. But Mance knew who he was and saw the actual monsters that wander these frozen lands. The White Walkers were starting to show themselves. At first, their sightings were rare. Maybe one near Crasters Keep, but as time went on, more started to appear. Everyone feared the White Walkers, and Mance Rayder tried to help his fellow folk.

One day, Ygritte was hunting in the forest.

Unaware that she came across a group of wights. Men who died from hunger and the curse of the Far North claimed more lives. She took her bow, shooting them down, yet they continue forward towards her. She ran, trying to get away from the wights. Until tripping over. She turned around to face death, seeing the wights lunging forward. She closed her eyes, waiting for darkness. However, darkness flew over her tackling the wights.

Ygritte opened her eyes, seeing a massive wolf attacking the wights along with another Free Folk. She held a spear with a massive spearhead crystal, stabbing the wights who dare come close. Just one stab alone and the Wight fell to the ground. Soon they were all dead, leaving Ygritte, the wolf, and the stranger standing.

The Spearwife stood brushing the snow off her furs approaching the person.

"I owe you," Ygritte said. "I'm Ygritte."

The stranger kept her back to Ygritte.

"I gave you my name," Ygritte said.

The stranger pulled down the hood to her makeshift cloak. Strapped on the person back was a fancy sword. One that those high Crows owns. She turned around, facing the archer of the face of a ghost as she stood tall, with pale skin. Her dark hair pulled back in a messy tail. Around her grey eyes was charcoal. Ygritte would have thought it was any spear wife, but the direwolf with the multicolor eyes told her differently.

"Imogen?" She hasped.

The woman nodded.

Ygritte steps forward getting a better look of her friend. Although the built-up rage from her lengthy absence had Ygritte fist her hand and punch Imogen in the face. The girl's face turned, but she remained standing. She cradled her bruised cheek.

"Where have you been?" Ygritte demanded.

"Under the Weirwood tree," Imogen whispered.

"What? All this time you've been hiding under a tree?"

"Ygr- "

Ygritte punched her again. She was about to do it for the third time, but Imogen caught it. Blue eyes stared at grey eyes. One can see a person's soul through the eyes. What Ygritte saw could break anyone's heart. Imogen was in pain, not physical pain, but she was suffering inside. An expression of rejection and sorrow. As if she was taken away by force, adapted, and now lost again.

"If you are still my friend . . . I need you to take me to the King-Beyond-the-Wall."

"And why should I?"

"Because this is only the beginning," Imogen said, pointing her spear towards the dead wights. "And more is on the rise."

Having no choice, Ygritte nodded, yet she stopped to hug her childhood friend again.

That was what life was like for the next four years. Imogen acquired knowledge that no one else could explain. She was reunited with her parents Chief Fenrir and Boudica, along with her siblings. But when arriving at the camps, she addressed Mance Rayder; a Crow turned Free Folk of what they were honestly dealing with.

"And how do you know this?" Mance asked.

Imogen looked down at her feet, "Because the Three-Eyed Raven showed me."

"The Three-Eyed Raven?" Mance asked, confused.

Imogen nodded, "He wants us to fight. Fight for the living. The only way to do that is to unite the tribes and head south."

She then looked at Mance in the eyes.

"If we don't, then we are all dead."

Those years of uniting the tribes were taxing. Ygritte tried to get her friend back, which Imogen allowed. But it wasn't the same. Whatever the Three-Eyed Raven did hurt her friend. She tried to pry some information, but through four years she gets some now and then. Learning about the Children and visions she saw in the past.

"How come you didn't become the next Raven?" Ygritte asked.

Imogen held a lost look, "I wasn't worthy."

Not worthy?

**.o0o.**

_Present Day_

_Jon's POV_

Jon Snow was still on guard as he enters the Wildling Camp. It was a long, tedious journey since being captured by the Wildlings with Qhorin Halfhand. Until his fellow comrade came up with a plan to earn the trust of the wildlings in order to escape. As Qhorin wasn't direct in telling Jon and killed the respected Ranger with his own sword. There he earned Ygritte's and Lord of Bones respect. Well, enough respect to not be tied up anymore. Sometimes he wonders if he should have listened to Qhorin and killed Ygritte. The woman was annoying.

They enter through the camp; it was massive. More extensive than any wildling population the rangers told him about. Seeing some small resemblance from other tribes in their furs. Some wearing antlers or walrus skulls. Others were walking barefoot that turn black and harden from frostbite. Others having painted faces. It was strange, seeing people living ordinary lives, almost like in Winterfell.

As he continues walking with Ygritte, he saw something familiar and strange all the same. There were direwolves in the camp of all different sizes. The ones that shock him the most are the ones that were the size of a horse. Far larger than Ghost is. The direwolves were wearing used to drag timber. Right behind the furry beast was a giant. The giant was carrying lumber, a being almost thirty feet tall. The giant walked by them, and into a group dropping the lumber. A man below shouted thanks as he removed the rope off the direwolves.

"First time you've seen a giant, Jon Snow?" Ygritte asked. "Or a direwolf?"

"Direwolves no," Jon mumbled, still bewilder as he continues to watch.

"Well, don't stare too long. They're shy," Ygritte playfully warned.

The giant took the lumber and shoved them down into the earth. Next, he took his hand and slammed his fist onto the beam like a hammer.

"When they stop being shy, they get angry," Ygritte added. "And when they're angry, I've seen them pound a man straight into the ground like a hammer on a nail."

Jon looked at her, wondering if she was joking. Unfortunately, she wasn't as she walked away. He glanced at the giant, who was still pounding away. Not a second longer, the giant he was staring at growl at him. Jon quickly looked away and followed Ygritte. On the journey, people were shouting, calling him Crow or giving him a stingy look. Suddenly he was struck by a rock, almost losing his balance.

"You're wearing the wrong color," Ygritte taunt.

"Mance was a ranger," Jon muttered, being struct by another rock.

"In your hearts, all you Crows wants to fly free. "Ygritte replied.

"When I'm free, will I be free to go?" Jon asked.

A bunch of kids rushed over shouting crow and throw more rocks at him. He hunched over to protect his head.

"Sure, you will," Ygritte laughed, before kicking a kid in the shins knocking him down. She turned to Jon, "And I'll be free to kill you."

Jon questions his life now.

Ygritte continued walking, "Got no respect, this lot. Got no fathers to slap 'em when they're foul."

"What happened to their fathers?" Jon asked.

Ygritte gave him a sour look, "Some of them were killed by crows like you."

Jon frowned.

"Don't look so grim, Jon Snow," she said. "If Mance Rayder likes you, you'll live another day. And if he doesn't . . ."

She gave him a wicked smile.

They reached the center tent in the camp, one of the largest as it was being held by tusks. Outside were two direwolves waiting. A black one and an older grey one. They laid by the entrance and gave Jon a growl. Ygritte, familiar with these two wolves, came over and petted the black wolf on the head.

"Such a pretty girl," Ygritte murmured.

The wolf leaned into her touch before resting her head down. Jon was surprised by this. Ygritte smiled before giving her spear to one of the wildlings at the entrance. Another guard handed her Ice, before lifting the tarp giving them entrance. Inside there was a large gather, they sat around the fire, eating some rabbits that were caught. One man with red hair was hunched forward scarfing his face in the cooked flesh. There was an older man, middle-aged with salt and pepper hair, as he wore a cloak with a wolf, around his shoulders the same his family did with their cloak. His eyes were grey, and there was some blue paint around his eyes and forehead. Next to him was a girl with the same resemblance, yet she had a tattoo along her neck and a Snowy owl resting on her shoulder.

The Lord of Bones stopped Jon and removed his walrus mask.

The man eating the rabbit stopped eating, "I smell a crow."

"We killed his friends," Lord of Bones said. "I thought you'd want to question this one."

Jon assumed this man was Mance Rayder.

"What do we want with a baby Crow," he asked, taking another bite.

"This baby killed Qhorin Halfhand," Ygritte answered. "He wants to be one of us."

The three stopped eating as the wildling king stood up being a foot taller than Jon.

"That half-handed cunt killed friends of mine," he said. "Friends thrice your size."

Jon stared into the man's blue eyes, "My father told me big men fall just as quick as little ones if you put a sword through their hearts."

"Plenty of little men tried to put their swords through my heart. And there's plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods." He murmured. "What's your name, boy?"

"Jon Snow," Jon replied. The man paused, staring at him. Jon didn't know if they did formality as they do in the south. Since he was addressing the King-Beyond-the-Wall, he forgot his manners. Immediately he kneeled before the man. "Your Grace."

Suddenly the room burst in laughter.

"Your Grace?" the man asked, amused, then spread his arms out. "Did you hear that? From now on, you'd better kneel every time I fart."

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my lips. Tormund, as always, has a sense of humor. I doubt I feel sorry for the baby crow, then again, he chose this life to hunt us free folk. At first, I wondered why Ygritte and Lord of Bones would bring a Crow to our camp. After Ygritte's explanation, it sounds reasonable. I've crossed paths with Qhorin Halfhand. The bastard killed my fellow friends.

Jon Snow looked up utterly confused, wondering why we were all laughing.

"Stand, boy," Mance said, coming out from his corner. "We don't kneel for anyone beyond the Wall."

Jon stood up facing Mance.

"So, you're Ned Stark's bastard," Mance noted. "Thank you for the gift, Lord of Bones. You can leave us now."

Lord Bones nodded, leaving the tent along with Ygritte. She glanced over at Jon before leaving as well. It seems Ygritte has a new target now. I doubt Orell will be pleased about it. The two were in a relationship. I don't seriously know what happened to end it, but Ygritte said Orell wanted more than she could give. Then again, Ygritte is a free spirit. She can't be tamed.

Us Free Folk don't have the same customs as them southerners when it comes to marriage. A majority of the tribes have a high expectation on the men to be forceful. A man must go in and steal a woman from her home or clan, although there is a slight challenge since women are trained to fight. If the woman submits, it's a blessing, is she puts up a fight, then the man must put in more effort, especially if there were male relatives involved. But on some occasions, if a relationship falters over time and there are no babes to tend too, the two can separate. It was believed that taking a woman from a far-off tribe would strength the population. The gods and man frown upon a Free Folk taking a relative or the same clan member. Mance said from his experience from the south, fornicating with family is called incest to which leads to physical and/or mental conditions.

However, us Dires don't partake in the stealing of a bride when the red wanderer is within the Moonmaid. There is a pursuit, as men try to steal a women's heart. But as a pack, the affection must be accepted in the term, and we allow the union with the clan's member as the elders keep track of who is related to who. It's only when there are no eligible women or the risk of cousin fornication do, they seek others outside the tribe. My Papa, Fenrir didn't have to steal his wife Boudica. My Mum, she was an excellent spearwife, and she was a fighter, and simply loved my Papa as they grew up together. There have been a few occasions of ballsy men trying to steal me, except they keep forgetting about Skadi.

"The girl likes you," Mance noted. "You like her back, Snow? That why you want to join us?"

This…Jon Snow bit his lip looking away from Mance.

"Don't panic, boy," Tormund said. "This isn't the damned Night's Watch where we make you swear off girls."

"Your balls fall off if we did," Fenrir joked.

Tormund burst up laughing.

"This chicken eater you thought was King is Tormund Giantsbane," Mance introduce our fiery friend, then pointed at us. "And this is Chief Fenrir and his daughter Imogen, the Wildling Huntress them Crows talk about."

Jon Snow stared at me, baffled. I plucked some rabbit and offered it to Frigg, my Snowy Owl who ate the piece. No doubt my reputation is heard down near the Wall since on occasion I do come near it. Seeing if I can talk to a Crow to warn them. Sadly, any encounter ended when they try to rape and kill me. So out of defense, I kill them, except those who I try to warn and leaving a protection charm on them. In case they do die beyond the Wall. The last time I was near, I tried to help a small tribe, I was too late as an Other…a White Walker slaughtered them to form a symbol of warning. Three Crows came to investigate, two of them died by the White Walker. I managed to save the third, hoping this encounter can enlighten the Night's Watch of the true threat did not occur. Mance did say, any Crow who deserts their vows end up losing their head. A waste of time and a nasty injury from the Other. Fortunately, my dragon glass struck the creature dead.

"Can't believe this pup killed the Halfhand," Tormund said, walking around the young man.

Guilt crossed the Crow's face.

"He was our enemy, and I'm glad he's dead," Mance said, offering his hand to the boy.

Jon hesitated before accepting Mance's hand only to be pulled closer.

"He was my brother once." Mance murmured. "Back when he had a whole hand."

The young Crow pulled his hand back.

"What were you doing with him?" Mance asked.

"The Lord Commander sent me to the Halfhand for seasoning," Jon answered.

"Why?"

"He wants me to lead one day."

"But here you are, a traitor kneeling before the King-Beyond-the-Wall."

"If I'm a traitor, then you are, too."

All eyes were on Jon.

Mance smirked, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, "Why do you want to join us, Jon Snow?"

The boy was silent. It is a good question. Only one Crow has ever deserted the Night's Watch to join us, is Mance. The only reason Mance is so readily accepted is that he is half Free Folk. So why would a crow want to join us? Unless of course, he is here to gather information to use against us. The thought had me scowl at him.

"I want to be free," Jon answered.

"No, I don't think so," Mance said, seeing passed the lie. "I think what you want most of all is to be a hero."

Fenrir stood up holding his ax,

"I'll ask you one last time – why do you want to join us?"

The Crow looked at his surrounded and then stared into Mance straight in the eye. "We stopped at Craster's Keep on the way north. I saw . . ."

"You saw what?"

"I saw Craster take his own baby boy and leave it in the woods. I saw what took it."

"You're telling me you saw one of them?" Mance asked, his composure dropped. "And why would that make you desert your brothers?"

Jon looked down, "Because when I told the Lord Commander," then looked back up, "he already knew. Thousands of years ago, the First Men battled the White Walkers and defeated them. I want to fight for the side that fights for the living. Did I come to the right place?"

Mance paused, examining the boy before saying, "We'll need to find you a new cloak."

One of the men leads Jon to the Seamstress Tent to provide some new clothes that are far suitable for the climate. And not a target for the children to throw stones at. Once we were alone, Mance turned around facing Fenrir and me.

"What do you think?" Mance asked.

"He's warm-blooded," I answered.

"Really? He's from the North," Mance said.

"Anyone below the Wall is not a true Northern. Something doesn't seem right…I don't trust him." I said.

"Of course, you don't," Tormund said. "He's a Crow."

"Keep a close eye on him," Mance instructed to all of us. "If he is a spy, then bring him to me."

We all nodded.

* * *

**What do you guys think?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	3. Chapter 2: Trying not to remember

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

* * *

_**Chapter 2: Trying not to remember**_

_Imogen's POV_

I don't know how it all happened. But I can say it started with a blizzard. The Dire tribe was on the move to Lunar Haven. The location where the Dires head to during the actual winters. I was eleven at the time, and the weather started off as usual by the outskirts of the Frostfang near the Bay of Ice. We were passing through the First of the First Men, after making trade near Antler River.

The blizzard came out of nowhere, as Valko secured himself close to my siblings and me, as did Skadi. Papa walked ahead to lead the men with others in the councils before making his way back. I stumbled and tripped, which Papa quickly grabbed hold of me.

"Don't let go of my hand, little cub," He loudly said over the screaming winds.

I cling onto his hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

"We need to make camp!" one of the men yelled.

"Not until we reach the mountains!" Chief Fenrir ordered. "Everyone stay together!"

So, we stick together.

As I held onto my Papa's hand while holding onto Skadi. Time went on in the world of white. The winds were howling, the snow was getting in my eyes. The air was far colder than ever before but I kept holding Papa's hand. When all of a sudden there was screaming. Not a scream of someone tripping, but an actual cry of fear. More screams followed. When all of a sudden, something tackled us. I don't know what it was, but it separated Papa and I. I fell, tumbling away banging my head on the icy ground. A groan escaped my lips, as I tried to stand up, hearing more screams, men fighting, and the direwolves growling, out in the fog seeing icy blue eyes.

"Papa!" I Exclaimed. "Mum!"

"Imogen," Boudica shouted. "Imogen, where are you!"

"Imogen!" Fenrir bellowed.

A figure could be seen walking his way over towards me. I got up, rushing over to it, thinking it was Papa. However, the moment I got to him, I realized it was not Papa. It was a living corpse with vibrant blue eyes. Ones the elders talked about — a Wight. I screamed, scared as it made its way raising its ax. Just as it was about to attack, Skadi jumped in, tackling the Wight down and ripping it to shreds. Even when torn into many pieces, the Wight was still alive. Skadi rushed over to me and I grabbed her fur while she led the way to escape.

"Find Valko," I told her.

Direwolves can easily smell their own.

However, we couldn't find them. We walk toward the direction we thought the tribe went. It was a foolish mistake on my part. I should have remained where I was so Valko could sniff for us. I was a scared little girl encountering a monster. By then, it was too late, and I was already lost. When the blizzard died out, I was lost in the mountains, unsure where to go, with no supplies other than a small knife. I tried calling for members of the tribe, even tried warging with a few birds, but my emotions were too overwhelming so I couldn't connect. So, I knelt down next to Skadi and cried.

That was when the same raven that has been following me landed in the snow in front of me. He cawed, trying to gain my attention. His eyes were black, not the color of a Warg in possession. I grabbed a rock thinking I could kill and eat it, but he flew away, circling around me in the air.

"Go away!" I shouted, then sobbed. "Go away!"

Suddenly, Skadi whimpered before tensing. I looked into her eyes, seeing they were no longer blue and yellow. Instead, they were grey. A warg has taken possession of Skadi. I smiled, sighing in relief as I grabbed hold of her dark fur.

"Take me to the group," I said.

Skadi nodded as she started leading the way with the wargs guidance. Once more, I was a naïve eleven-year-old girl. A girl who though a warg from her tribe entered her direwolf to lead her back home. Instead, the Warg lead me farther away through the mountain pass. Based on the sun, during the early hours of the morning, we were heading east, not west. I was confused about where the Warg was taking me when crossing through a pass. There stood a weirwood tree surrounded by carved boulders. It was massive from all the others as the red leaves reached for the sky. Underneath was a small cave.

A person came out.

The person was female, shorter than most women I ever met, almost my size if not slightly taller. She had nut-brown skin that was dappled like a fawn with paler spot, large ears, massive eyes that were in the shade of green and amber that were slit like a cat. Her hair was tangled and was of different colors of red, brown, and yellow with vines and twigs in them. Her clothes made of bark, vines, and leaves as well, almost molding into her like a second skin. I was nervous, wondering if I wandered into another tribe that harms others. Ones the Elders never talked about.

"Come with me, Imogen," she said, her voice high and sweet, offering a hand. "Come with me so that you can be warm and fed."

Once more, I was a scared child having nowhere else to go.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"The First Men called us the children, but we were born long before them," She said.

"The Children of the Forest," I whispered.

The child nodded, "I am called Leaf. Come, he waits for you."

"Who?" I asked.

Leaf smiled as she took my hand, leading the way inside the cave. She guided me through a series of tunnels tangled in vines and roots until finally coming across a carved chamber were in the center was a gathering of roots where a man was entangled in them along with several crows resting around the older man. As we walked further in, I tripped once more over something. When I looked down, I gasped seeing the bones of humans.

"You're Thenns!" I screamed, pulling away.

Thenns were cannibals. They eat people as a mean of survival. They prefer eating people instead of the animals off the land.

"Never has anyone called me a Thenn," the older man in the tree murmured. "No child, neither myself or the children will eat you."

"Then what are you?" I mumbled clinging to my knife.

"I've been many things," he answered calmly. "Now, I am what you see."

I paused, taking his words in, "You're the Three-Eyed Raven."

"I am, child," he confirmed. "I've been watching you. All of your life. With a thousand eyes and one. Now you've come to me at last, Imogen, daughter of Fenrir and Boudica. Though the hour is early."

"Can you help me back to my family?" I asked.

"Your family is lost. But you will see them again," he promised.

"I don't understand," I mumbled.

"You shall see them again, in the past, the present, and the future," he explained. "As I take you under my wings."

**.o0o.**

I opened my eyes, finding myself back in the tent that I shared with Fenrir. It was only a dream, a memory when I first got separated from my family and met the Children of the Forest and the Three-Eyed Raven. I was so naïve those many years ago. A scared child who was separated from her clan and encountered a monster, trusting the first living human. Believing in Raven's words that my parents were dead as he taught me to become the next Three-Eyed Raven. He taught me how to Warg properly and stare into visions of the past. I saw history from the very beginning of Westeros.

When I was not being trained by the Three-Eyed Raven, I was with the Children of the Forest. Leaf was my friend during my stay. She, along with the others, taught me how to live off the lands, how to track, and how to fight. Let alone teaching me the ancient language of the children and readings of their runes. They also taught me their magic, although I was a human, descended from the first men, I learned to make ointments and salves that mend damaged skin and treat illnesses.

When I was separated from the others, being rejected by the Three-Eyed Raven…I felt like I lost my second family. Ygritte will always be my best friend, but Leaf and the others…they were my friends as well. Without them, I knew I would have died lost in the North that is always in winter's embrace. The last thing I had of them were the markings they etched into my skin, the bracelet made of vines, and my spear. They'd given me the most significant piece of dragon glass they had and carved the ancient runes in the spear.

There was another who guided me during those five years. He appeared in my dreams alone. The man who was a spirit as his soul remains inside the roots of the weirwood tree as the Three-Eyed Raven inhabited his body. His name was once Ser Brynden Rivers, but he told me to call him Bloodraven. I took a deep breath, not wanting to think about him right now after what he did in preventing my fate.

"You're up," Fenrir said.

I looked up seeing Fenrir awake as he was packing up his gear.

"Are we leaving today?" I asked.

"Aye, Mance wanted us on the move in case the Crows are looking for their baby bird," Fenrir answered. "I let you sleep in."

"Thank you, Papa," I said, forcing a small smile.

When I returned to my family, it was a hard year to reconnect. My parents looked the same, except for the strands of silver in their hair, yet my siblings looked different. My two brothers, who are twins, Aiden, and Ethan. Boudica, my mum, struggled as well, as the essential years of our connection were taken away. I will not blame the Children of the Forest for being my second family, how they took care of me as they helped me through the phases of life. But the Three-Eyed Raven, I can never forgive. A year to reconnect, yet I was still distant for I knew the fate of the world. I have seen the past, have knowledge of the present, and…partial understanding of the future.

Although in my travels since reuniting with the clans, I have been in search of a weapon that can prevent the Army of the Dead from crossing the Wall. One that the First Men created since the creation of the Wall. The Horn of Winter, also known as Joramun's Horns. Supposedly if blown the sound from the horn can crumble the Wall. Magic is real, for I have seen it. If the Night King gets hold of it, then it will be the end of it all. Sadly, the only vision of the horn I could see was it being hidden and lost in the land. The first men hid it well, and eight-thousand years later the world has changed.

I sighed, sitting up and got ready for the day and helped Fenrir to dismantle the tent. Once done, I secured the only thing I received from Bloodraven, which was a long sword. In the dreams, he taught me how to use this sword, that was hidden underneath the Three-Eyed Raven's feet. A fancy sword, for a fancy lord. Bloodraven said the sword had a name, called Dark Sister. Once belonging to a strong and powerful woman named Visenya Targaryen. A mouthful of a name as the steel contains dragon fire in the blade. So, I secured Dark Sister, before joining Fenrir with Skadi and Valko by our side.

It will be a long march as we headed South. The rest of my family were at White Harbor with the women and children. During the walk, Ygritte came over talking about her little adventure with the Crow. Saying his men caught her group off guard, and Jon literally caught her. Qhorin Halfhand ordered Jon to kill her, yet he couldn't. She continues onwards, believing Jon was a virgin, since any advances she makes he becomes awkwardly shy.

"I'll make him a man," Ygritte jest. "Not those fancy words them Crows promised."

"Ygritte," I started.

"What, as if you haven't had a man's cock before," She teased.

I gave her a warning look. I was still untouched physically. But…there was a man of interest, and I thought there might be something with Bloodraven, for the in the realm of the dream we did fornicate. Ygritte knew some of my life under the weirwood tree. She knew about Bloodraven.

"Oh, sorry," Ygritte apologized. "You need to let them go after what they did to you."

I sighed, "Yet they taught me enough to give us the upper hand."

Ygritte nodded in agreement.

As we continue to walk, Orell came over to us.

"Imogen, mind helping me on scouting ahead?"

I nodded, as Orell, Ygritte and I stepped aside along with Tormund who was with him. We found a good spot, as Orell and I sat down and with a deep breath connected with our familiars. Frigg was flying south already having a lead at the ends of the Fist of the First men. Meanwhile, Orell connected with his Eagle.

**.o0o.**

Frigg was flying over a trail of the Night's Watch when I connected to her. I flew around observing that their numbers had dropped drastically than the last sighting. There were thirty or so crows walking near the outskirts of the Haunted Forest, about a day or so's journey away. I landed on a boulder as the men were too weatherworn to notice me. There was a Big Crow walking, who appeared upset, as tears stained his cheek, yet he continues walking.

Once crow came up to a chubby one saying, "What's the matter piggy? You crying 'cause you're cold? There's two-hundred brothers killed by dead men and you're still here whimpering. That seem fair to you? I seen 'em torn to pieces fighting while you was off somewhere hiding in a hole. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while, eh? You know you want to."

The Mean Crow passes the Big Crow shoving him a bit. The Big Crow slowed down in his walk before falling to his knees. The Mean Crow turned around, shaking his head in disapproval. Two crows who were ahead noticed the Big Crow on the ground and walked back to him. I recognized one being Edd, a Crow I caught and left a protection charm on him. Sadly, he did not pass on the message it seems.

"Get up, Sam," the Crow said.

"No," the Big Crow called Sam replied as he hunched over.

"Get up," The Crow yelled.

"I can't," Sam cried.

"If you stop, you'll die," the Crow said, trying to help his friend up.

"'Course if you don't stop, you'll probably die, too," Edd added.

"You don't care," Sam whimpered.

"Course we care," the Crow's friend said.

"You left me," Sam cried, looking up at his friend. "When the White Walkers came, you left me."

"Aye, we left you," Edd confirmed. "You're fat and you're slow. We didn't want to die."

The Crow gave Edd a baffled look, not expecting the Crow to say that. To which Sam began to sob. The Crow shook his head as he tries to help his friend up.

"Help me get him up," he said.

The Mean Crow returned, "Looks like the piggy is done for."

"Help us get him up," the young Crow said as he and Edd try to get Sam up.

"He's slowing us down," the Mean Crow said.

"Just get him up!" The Young Crow yelled.

"Why? So, the rest of us can die?" the Mean Crow asked. "We'll move faster without him."

_Heartless bastard,_ I thought.

And to think the Night's Watch is supposed to be a brotherhood. If this is how they work, no doubt the Wildlings will have the advantage. Suddenly a family Crow came over, the one leading them was Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.

"What is this?" Mormont demanded. "Get up, Tarly."

Edd and the Young Crow manage to get Sam back on his feet.

"Is he all right?" Mormont asked.

"Aye, I think so," the Young Crow said.

"If he can't, we may as well just go without him," the Mean Crow said.

"That's enough," Mormont ordered, then looked at Sam. "Tarly, I forbid you to die. Do you hear me?"

Sam paused yet slightly nodded his head to the Lord Commander.

"Why should the rest of us –" the Mean Crow started.

"Rast…" Mormont interrupted. "…You're responsible for him."

"What am I supposed to do?" Rast asked.

"Make sure he gets back alive. If he doesn't, you don't," Mormont ordered, before walking back to the group. "Move on!"

Rast glared at Sam who ignored him. As Sam continues walking, Rast leaned over to him, "I'm not dying for you, Piggy. You hear me?"

Sam did not respond as he continues walking. As he walked past, Frigg froze in shock. That was when I saw what was secured to his belt. There was Joramun's Horn. The Crows have the horn. Damn it; if this Sam Tarly blows the horn, then it will be the end for the Wall that keeps the Others inside. I need to find this Sam before it is too late. Nothing else to see, I made Frigg fly back.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon trod through the snow with the wildlings. He was amazed by how Mance Rayder managed to get the wildings to work together. Since in his training with the Night's Watch, he learned that some tribes don't get along with others. He walked for a bit and stopped seeing the men, women, and children, all of different ages, skills, and cultures marching their way south. A part of him was impressed, but the rest of his inner self knows this is a lost cause. Six times the Wildlings have invaded south, now it will be the seventh time. Even though there is a good cause in their migration, the Lords of Westeros will not accept them. Not after centuries of wildlings invading the North and South, raiding, stealing, and killing.

Mance Rayder came up to Jon, "Was it hard for you to kill the Halfhand?"

"Yes," Jon sighed.

"You liked him?" Mance asked.

Jon could only nod.

"I like you, but if you're playing us false, it won't be hard for me to kill you," Mance warned. "I've got wildlings blood in my veins. These are my people."

"I understand," Jon assured, though he was lying. He had to get back to Castle Black and warn Lord Commander Mormont of Mance's plans.

"Well, how could you understand?" Mance asked.

Jon stopped to turn around, facing him, "You want to protect your people."

"Do you know what it takes to unite ninety clans, half of whom want to massacre the other half for one insult or another?" Mance asked. "They speak seven different languages in my army. The Dires hate the Thenns. The Thenns hate the Hornfoots. The Hornfoots hate the ice-river clans. Everyone hates the cave people. So, you know how I got moon worshippers and cannibals and giants to march together in the same army?"

"No," Jon answered.

"I told them we were all going to die if we don't get south," Mance explained. "Because that's the truth."

The two started walking until Mance noticed a small party on the side of the trail. They headed that way seeing Chief Fenrir, Tormund, and Ygritte looking at the sky, where an eagle was flying. On the ground were Imogen and another man with a mustache. Both their eyes were gone, leaving nothing but a void of white. Jon was a bit concerned, wondering if there was a medical problem.

"Shouldn't be long now," Tormund whispered.

"What's wrong with them?" Jon asked.

"They're wargs," Mance answered.

Jon looked at him, confused, never hearing such a thing.

"They can enter the minds of animals, see through their eyes," Chief Fenrir explained. "They're scouting for us."

"What, you've never met a warg?" Ygritte asked, surprised.

Jon shook his head, looking back at the two. He recalls old Nan talking about Skinchangers and Beastlings, but never the word Warg. He stared at them, seeing the deep trance they were in. Practically numb with their mouths slightly open as if they were in a daze. A trance of a spell while being blind. As he watched, he noticed on Imogen's lap a sword. It was a longsword, slightly longer than Longclaw. The handle wrapped in black leather, while the pommel was in shape of flames, while the cross guard held golden flames as well and in the center of the rim guard was a ruby. Jon wonders what Lord who became a Brother of the Night's Watch that blade belonged to. Since all the other swords the wildlings had were repurposed with animal bone handles.

He was recalling Edd talking about his encounter with the Wildling Huntress who had her direwolf pinned him down and carved a symbol into his chest a few years back. Jon finds this person strange since Wildlings never leave a Crow to live.

"Orell," Mance Called out.

"Imogen," Fenrir did the same to his daughter.

Both shivered with a gasp, trying to catch their breaths. They've closed their eyes for a moment before looking up with their normal eyes.

"Where were you this time?" Mance asked.

"The Fist of the First Men," Orell answered.

"The outskirts of the Haunted Forest," Imogen answered.

"What did you see?" Mance asked.

Orell chuckled glancing at Jon, "Dead Crows."

"A small group of Crows, thirty or so heading south," Imogen added. "Returning to their nest."

"Leaving with their tales between their legs," Tormund said.

"We better see what happened," Mance said.

Everyone nodded, wondering what Orell meant by dead crows and what Imogen saw. Jon was concern hoping Grenn, Sam, and Edd are all right.

* * *

**So what do you think?**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 3: Symbols

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Symbols**

Language is something that is most common. Communication indeed if you are going to survive in this world. In the lands beyond the Wall, in the True North, there are seven languages. Common Tongue is mostly used, although many use the old language of the First Men. We Free Folk were born from the First Men, have more of their blood in our veins than the people below the Wall who call themselves Northmen. Yes, on occasions, men steal Southern women, who live beneath when traveling through the Bay of Ice. Common Tongue and the Old Language was taught, yet we did not learn how to read.

Literacy, as them Crows call it, was never used. We cannot read the chicken scratch them Crow reads. The only form of words we have that are written are the runes. Although as time lingers on, the runes become more of symbols and pictures than what they actually mean. The Elders try to keep the practice of the reading runes, yet our survival is more important than the runes.

It would be a month when the Children of the Forest showed me how to read the runes. Parts of the cave were carved in runes and symbols. Leaf showed me their language. She knew Common Tongue, the Old Language, and her native tongue. After each lesson with the Three-Eyed Raven, she would take me aside to a small chamber with the carving and paintings and teach me. I was a curious child. As I sat there with Skadi next to me, listening carefully and observe each carving.

Leaf pointed at a spiral symbol, "These hold stories. Paintings that tell parts of history. This one, the dotted spiral is about the creation of the White Walkers. The Beginning."

"How are the White Walkers real?" I asked.

Leaf held a guilty look, "War between the Children and the First Men created them. The Three-Eyed Raven will show you when you are ready."

I pouted which Leaf smile and continue to show me more runes and symbols.

There was another tutor, one I found by mistake. As I fell asleep, exhausted from warging, the Three-Eyed Raven allowed me to rest under the roots. Unaware as my hand made contact to Dark Sister. As I slept, finding myself in a dream of unknown lands. There was a view of the ocean, but it wasn't grey or black more greenish-blue. The air warmer, practically hot, nothing like I ever felt unless sick with a fever. There was the color as well, so much color.

"Where did you come from?" a male voice asked.

I turned around, seeing a man I've never met before. He was tall, though not as tall as most Freemen. He had milk-white skin, long white hair, and red eyes. On the right side of his face, he had a red mark that extended from his throat up to his right cheek, almost resembling a bird. He wore strange clothing, suitable for the climate, with a strange creature on the tunic with wings.

"This is a strange dream," I replied. "Where am I? And who are you?"

The man opens his mouth to speak but stops, realizing what was going on.

"Has my body aged that much that he cannot suffice?" he asked himself.

"What's a suffice?" I asked.

He paused, taking a better look at me, wearing my leathers and wool tunic. "You're a Wildling."

I scowled at him, "Don't call me that. I'm a Free Folk."

He scoffed, "Of course you are."

I glared at him, "Dreams are not meant to be mean."

"I'm afraid that this is not a dream child." He said.

"I am not a child, and I have a name," I snapped.

"And what is your name, my lady?" he sarcastically asked.

"I'm not a lady, and my name is Imogen, daughter of Fenrir," I answered.

The man stopped upon hearing my name.

"What? Does my Papa scare you?" I challenged.

The man shook his head, snapping out of his daze. "No…"

"I gave you my name, what's yours?" I demanded.

The man gave a chuckled, as he knelt to my level, "Forgive me, I am Brynden Rivers."

"Son of who?" I asked.

Brynden held a sad face, "You won't know him."

"You're weird," I said, then noticed he had something in his hand. "What's that?"

Brynden lifted the item in his hand, "This is a book?"

"What's a book," I asked.

Brynden chuckled, "You got a lot to learn, little one."

That was my life. The Three-Eyed Raven, Leaf, and Brynden taught me. Usually, the Three-Eyed Raven took control of showing me the past; once he was done, I would be taught by Leaf. And when I go to sleep, it would be with Brynden, or Bloodraven as he allows me to call him. Although, the dream realm lasted longer, at the same amount time with the Three-Eyed Raven. In reality, I was gone for five years in reality, but mentally in the dream well and the visions, it felt like ten years.

**.o0o.**

_Present-day_

Frigg flew overhead seeing the image that was presented in the Fist of the First Men. It was a dotted spiral circle. However, this was not made out of stone. No, the White Walkers made this symbol out of horses. Chopped them up to smaller pieces. I know what this symbol means. The White Walkers were reminding us of their existence. Upon returning to my body, I saw Mance, Tormund, Ygritte, Orell, Fenrir, and Jon come over. Mance knelt at the center of the spiral.

"Always the artists," Mance said.

"It's only horses," Jon noted. "No men."

"You said there were dead crows," Ygritte told Orell.

Orell was confused, "There was."

The realization then hit that the dead crows were now wights — the Night King's curse taking more men in his army.

"How many men were here?" Mance asked Jon.

"About three hundred," Jon answered.

"And you know what those men are now?" Mance asked.

Jon looked at Mance and nodded.

"We're all the same to them – meat for their army," Mance declared.

"Do you think anyone got away?" Jon asked.

"How many did you see near the Haunted Forest?" Fenrir asked me.

"Thirty maybe forty," I guessed. "Along with Mormont."

"You don't go far betting against Mormont," Mance said. "But dead or alive, he took a big gamble coming north. And he lost. His best fighting men are dead. And whether he's Lord Commander of the Night's Watch or a blue-eyed corpse, he's a long way from home. Tormund."

Tormund came over.

"Climb the Wall," Mance ordered. "Take Orell and twenty good men." He then pointed at Jon. "And take this one. He knows Castle Black's defenses better than any of us. And if he's useful, good. If not . . . Throw him off the Wall. See if crows can fly."

Jon's eyes widen.

Tormund smiled with excitement, "We're finally going to war, old friend?"

"Hide near Castle Black. When I give the signal, hit them in the night. They've got a big old wall to hide behind, but it only guards one side." Mance instructed.

Tormund chuckled and hugged Mance, "We'll meet again."

"Aye," Mance promised. "If you do your job."

"Ah," Tormund scoffed.

"How will we see your signal?" Orell asked.

Mance started walking off, "Send your eagle above the Wall every night. When it's time, I'm going to light the biggest fire the North has ever seen."

Jon held a concerned look. One Orell, Ygritte, and I noticed. There's still some Crow in him. The question being, is he concerned for his Crows or something else. For too long we Free Folk have been fighting for our lives. It's time them southern lords share the lands. The same lands our ancestors lived in during the First Men.

I glanced at the symbol on the ground again and knew what it meant. I know the story behind it. Eight-thousand and more years ago, the Children of the Forest fought against the First Men who invaded Westeros. A never-ending battle between the originals Children and the Giants against humanity. I remember walking through that memory with the Three-Eyed Raven.

The lands were warm, the grounds were green, and the sky was grey. In the center of a valley was a heart tree, a Weirwood tree surrounded by stones forming a spiral. A man was bound and gagged to the tree, as the Children of the forest were huddled together discussing their plan. They were done with fighting; the giants could not save everyone. So, with their magic, they enchanted a piece of dragonglass. The one who made the decision was Leaf as she stood up and approached the human. He panicked, trying to plead for his life, yet Leaf and the Children have had enough of fighting, and slowly stabbed the man in the chest where his heart would be with dragonglass. The man cried out in agony until the piece of glass was entirely inside him, and the magic took over. Transforming the human into the first White Walker, and thus the Night King was born as hazel eyes turned icy blue.

I asked Leaf why she did it? I was thirteen at the time and needed to understand what lead to this, why they created a monster. Leaf expressing her guilt looked me in the eye and said:

"We were at war. We were being slaughtered. Our sacred trees cut down. We needed to defend ourselves. From your ancestors. From men."

The Three-Eyed Raven could not approve or condemned their actions.

Now the Children are near extinction.

As well as the giants.

Desperation can change people to make a rash decision.

The White Walkers were meant to protect them. But something happened that the Night King turned his attention in killing all living things. He was going against his creators.

"Imogen," Tormund came over. "I could use the help."

"You already have a Warg," I reminded. Not wanting to offend Orell. He was an excellent Wargs.

"Aye, but the more, the merrier," Tormund murmured. "And I need good fighters and your direwolf too."

"Direwolves can't climb," Ygritte sarcastically reminded.

"She's got a point," I said. "Skadi can't climb the Wall. Besides, she's almost the size of a horse."

Skadi tilted her head at me as if I've insulted her.

Ygritte chuckled as she rubbed Skadi neck, "We can't carry you up, pretty girl."

Skadi nudged her head into Ygritte.

Tormund laughed at the direwolf's response, "Maybe so, but she can help on checking the other side of the wall."

I sighed and looked at Fenrir. He thought about it since he is the chief of my tribe.

"Go, they can use the skills the Raven showed you," he said.

I sighed yet again but nodded. Ygritte couldn't help but smile. It has been a while since we did some adventures together. But also, it allows me to keep watch on Jon Snow. I don't trust him. He made a vow to be a Crow, and he is still a Crow. From what I remember in exploring the past with the Three-Eyed Raven, and Mance knowledge of the Starks, they are loyal once they make their vows. If only the Three-Eyed Raven allowed me to see the future. However, he only showed me the past and present. The amount of the future is the gathering of the Free Folk and the gathering of the Wight Walkers. Also, the possible future of Westeros being a land of eternal winter where all humanity is gone.

* * *

**I know, short chapter. I will make the next chapter longer.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review.**


	5. Chapter 4: Kissed by Fire

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Warning this chapter is Rated M for Sexual Content.**_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Kissed by Fire**

_Imogen's POV_

The next day we were all packed for the climb on the Wall. Although, I knew I was in a slight predicament since my spear would be in the way. It's hard to climb while carrying the massive spear. So, I walked over to Fenrir and handed him my spear. His eyes widen, knowing how vital the spear was to me. One of the few gifts I had from the Children of the Forest.

"Are you sure?" Fenrir asked.

"Yes, it's too massive to climb, and there won't be any wights where I'm going," I answered.

Fenrir nodded as he wrapped a hand on my neck and pressed his forehead against mine. A gesture of care that Dires give to one another, mainly used among family and real friends. I love Papa dearly, despite losing five years, our bond was still there. I was a daddy's girl, but once more, we have to go our separate ways. We will meet again at Castle Black. Once there, we can bring our Clan to a safe place and our family will be safe.

Afterward, he adjusted the mask of the wolf on my face.

"The lone wolf dies," Fenrir said.

"And the pack survives," I replied.

The Dire Clan would exchange this farewell, to remind us how important our community was, how our tribe lives on. Words my ancestors exchanged for eight-thousand years since the construction of the Wall. We said one more goodbye before going our separate ways. As I went over to Skadi, I've noticed Jon Snow was nearby. As if he eavesdropped on our conversation. Mance Rayder once said House Stark had the sigil of a Direwolf. And when I was with Bloodraven, he mentioned the North and how House Stark had a motto of _Winter is Coming._

I gave him a scowl in which he turned away.

Ygritte, who was by Skadi chuckled, "Little Crow watching?"

"I don't trust him," I muttered.

"Any crow you don't trust," Ygritte murmured said. "Then again, you have a reputation with them Crows."

"Either they'll rape me or kill me, or I kill them," I said.

"And you let one of them survive…with a mark," she said.

"You rather they be dead completely or a member of the Night King's army?" I asked.

She lifted her hand, touching her shoulder. When I showed the symbol that protects the body from being resurrected, Ygritte immediately had hers upon hearing about it. While I carved the marking in the Crows, Ygritte's had her's stained.

Anyway, we started making our way South. There was some tension in our travels as the tension was coming from Orell. Ygritte stood close by Jon, as her way of keeping watch over him. If not keeping doubt from the others. When she was not by Jon, she was next to me. Or better yet, riding on Skadi with me as Jon Snow watched amazed in seeing how big my direwolf was.

Ygritte laughed, "What? You have never seen a direwolf this big before? I thought you said you had seen a direwolf?"

"I have, with my own?" Jon said.

"Your own?" I asked.

"His name is Ghost," he answered.

"Ghost?" I asked again.

"His fur is white and eyes red," Jon answered.

"Was this before you became a Crow or after?" Ygritte asked.

"Before."

"How can a Direwolf get below the wall?" Ygritte asked aloud.

"Must have crossed through the gorge," I guessed.

"Ghost didn't cross, his mother did. She died outside of Winterfell, from a Stag spearing her. Leaving six pups behind." Jon explained. "Ghost, he's the runt of the litter."

"How tall is he now?" I asked.

"Last I saw him…." Jon placed raised his hand up to her waist.

I nodded, "Runts take a bit longer to grow. But in the end, they end up the same size as all the rest."

"And how long did it take for…your wolf…to be this big?"

"Three years," I said. "Maybe four, it's hard to tell when you get used to her growing."

"And how old is she?" he asked.

I paused, trying to think about it, "About a decade."

"I thought wolves live up to eight years," Jon said.

Ygritte and I chuckled from this as we pet Skadi.

"Not direwolves, seven years are like a year to them," I explained.

Jon nodded, taking the information in.

It would be a week before we reached the springs. The springs were not out in the open. Instead, they were hidden in the caves. Many of the Free Folks take this as our opportunity to bathe.

Ygritte came over to me as she spoke in the Old Tongue, "_Think you can lend Skadi to guard one of the caves?"_

I tilted my head looking at her, _"Why?"_

_"Because I want to be alone with Jon Snow,"_ She murmured, as she leaned over and whispered in my ear, _"And break his vows."_

I scoffed looking at Jon who stood out of place. I snorted, now feeling sorry for the Crow, _"You will eat him alive."_

Ygritte chuckled, _"So…"_

I sighed, shaking my head, "_Just don't kill him."_

Ygritte laughed though it stopped when seeing Tormund gesturing us over with Orell. Orell had been warging, checking the condition on the Wall. Ygritte got Snow as we came over to them. Orell was giving a scornful look while Tormund remained neutral.

"Orell says there are crows patrolling on the Wall," Tormund announced. "Tell me what you know."

"There are four to a patrol—two builders to check for the structural damage, two rangers to watch for enemies," Jon explained.

"How often do these patrols go out?" Orell asked.

"It varies," Jon answered. "If I knew where on the Wall we were heading, I could tell you."

"You'd like to know that," Orell challenged. "There are nineteen castles guarding the Wall. How many are manned?"

"Three," Jon said, staring straight into his eyes.

"You sure of that?" Orell asked.

Jon nodded.

"Which three?" Orell asked.

All eyes were on Jon as he said, "Castle Black."

"Aye, Castle Black. Everyone knows Castle Black." Orell agreed. "Which others?"

Jon paused, staring at Orell, "Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and the Shadow Tower."

He looked down as if he betrayed someone.

"How many men remain in Castle Black?" Tormund asked.

Jon looked at him, "A thousand."

"Liar," Orell growled.

The Crow got angry, dropping the sticks he had gathered for the fire and reached into Orell's face. "What happens to your eagle after I kill you? Does he drift away like a kite with his string cut or does he just flop dead to the ground?"

Ygritte stepped in, "He's no crow."

"Just 'cause you want him inside you don't make him one of us," Orell told Ygritte.

Ygritte drew her dagger and aimed it at Orell, "I'm not afraid of you."

Tormund having enough, stood up and yanked Orell to the ground. He then got into Jon's face giving him a severe look. "I like you, boy. But if you lie to me, I'll pull your guts out through your throat."

Ygritte and I looked at Jon, as he murmured, "A thousand men."

Tormund stared into his eyes, seeking the truth, "We'll find out soon enough."

Orell got up as he and Tormund went to check the camp. I got down picking up some of the firewood as Ygritte helped as well. With Jon, we carried it to the next campfire although Jon was not pleased.

"I don't need you to protect me," he growled.

"Of course, you do," Ygritte said. "Who stopped Rattleshirt when he was about to cut your throat." She stopped him, "Who vouched for you with Mance? It seems you owe me a debt."

She yanked his sword, one with a white wolf pommel and took hold.

Jon, baffled, went after her, "Give it back."

"Well, I stole it. It's mine." She countered. "If you want it, come steal it back."

She stole a torch from the fire and took off to the caves. Jon growled and went after her shouting her name. I sighed and turned to Skadi, gesturing her to follow and guard them. Making sure no one disturbed Ygritte's test on the Crow. How did the stupid vow go, "Take no bride" or something like that? I sighed, collecting the wood that has been dropped and delivered it to the new campfire. I stared the flames and sat there on a matt while holding Dark Sister.

So many thoughts were lingering in my head, as I thought about Bloodraven and our first time together. For five years I was missing, hidden under the weirwood tree with the Children and the Three-Eyed-Raven. But when I was traveling through the past or in the realm with Bloodraven, it has felt like ten years instead of five.

The original plan was that once I was ready to be the Three-Eyed Raven, my soul would be one with Dark Sister being forever joined with Bloodraven. I loved him; he stole my heart. At first, he was a mentor, teaching me about the South, how to fight with a sword, archery, and the arts — teaching me how to read and write. Over time emotions grew from mentor and pupil to friends, and later on lovers.

I traced my finger over the ruby on the rain-guard thinking about that night.

**.o0o.**

_The Past_

My mindset was that of eighteen-year-old at the time even though I was physically fifteen in the real world. Bloodraven and I were in the castle known as the Red Keep. The Castle was quiet since there was no one there. In the realm, there were only the illusions of the animals as day turns to night and night turning into day. Bloodraven had spent years in solitude, not minding the isolation, for he grew up on it. Throughout the years he told me about his life. He was once a Bastard, a son of a King below the Wall, King Aegon IV Targaryen and his sixth mistress, Lady Melissa Blackwood. He had two older sisters and numerous half-siblings from the King as many called him one of the Great Bastards. It wasn't until his father was dying did he get legitimized. From there he made his own personal arms, of a white dragon with red eyes, breathing red fire on a black field as he wore on his tunic right now.

His life was interesting, a loyalist the Targaryens during the Blackfyre rebellion, when his half-siblings fought against each other for the Iron Throne. A throne made out of hundreds of swords of his Ancestors conquest, forged by dragon fire. Bloodraven held little interest for power and was loyal to the true King, Daeron II. He struggled with his siblings, Daemon and Aegor during the rebellion, where he lost his eye. Although in the realm, he had both eyes, yet the eye that was once lost was pale almost pink instead of red like the other. He even fell in love with his half-sister Shiera Seastar which Bloodraven had to explain to me the Valyrian culture after I scolded him it was wrong to mate with your siblings. He sure was amused by a twelve-year-old lecturing him at the time.

Nevertheless, after the rebellion, and serving Daeron II, he, later on, served his son King Aerys and became Hand of the King and Master of Whisperers, since his greenseer abilities were beneficial. Until came the second Blackfire Rebellion against his supposed new heir, followed by the third rebellion, in which Aegor was captured. Bloodraven told Aerys to execute him, yet the King refused to and decided to send Aegor to the Wall, only to escape and sail off to Esso. Bloodraven continued as Hand onto the next King, named Maekor, until his death lead to a dispute on the line of succession. Something called a Great Council was called, and a power dispute that leads to Bloodraven as the King believed he killed Aenys Blackfyre when the man came to Westeros only to be beheaded by the Gold Coats. Bloodraven was given a choice, forever in prison or take the black.

Over time Bloodraven earned his position as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but that position ended nearly twenty years later when he encountered the Three-Eyed Raven.

Bloodraven lived a long and complicated life filled with politics and wars. Much more complicated than the Free Folk. When I asked whatever happened to Shiera Seastar, he told me she had many lovers, and her games made him jealous.

"I have my own ghosts, Imogen. A brother that I loved, a brother that I hated, a woman that I desired." He told me after telling me his tale.

He loved Daeron, he hated Aegor, and he desired Shiera.

"And I thought my family was complicated," I said, being naïve.

Bloodraven laughed, messing up my hair, "True, for your history has been lost to your family. But you come from a long line of Great Men, from the First. When the Three-Eyed Raven thinks you are ready, you will know the truth of your ancestors, as I did with mine."

I was confused by that, but I learned who my ancestors were before the Great Divide.

Anyway, Bloodraven and I were in the library as we read. Well, more like he was reading the books and I was listening since the books were written in Valyrian. Knowing three languages was enough for me, from the Common tongue, the Old Tongue, and the Children's Language. And yet, Valyrian sounded like a song, the dialect was a tongue twister on my part. So Bloodraven read the poem in Valyrian before translating it, as his arm wrapped around my waist.

"They held each other close and turned their backs upon the end.

The hills that split asunder and the black that ate the skies;

The flames that shot so high and hot that even dragons burned;

Would never be the final sights that fell upon their eyes.

A fly upon a wall, the waves the sea wind whipped and churned –

The city of a thousand years and all that men had learned;

The Doom consumed it all alike, and neither of them turned."

"What caused the Doom?" I asked him.

"No one knows for sure," he answered, closing the book. "Many believe it was caused by wild magic from the Dragonlords, while others believe a volcano erupted and destroyed everything in its wake. Only the earth's fire can burn a dragon."

I nodded as I stood up and walked over to the small bar to pour us a drink of wine. It wasn't ale or fermented milk. A luxury that came from fruits, more specifically, grapes.

"Still, to find true love and holding them close till death is something the Wise Woman would tell us, young girls," I murmured.

Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me close. I blushed, for I had fallen in love with him, but didn't know how to express it. We were not in the True North where he needs to steal me, nor in Lunar Haven where he must earn my heart. But I was not the woman he desired; I was not Shiera Seastar who had pale skin, long silver-gold hair, and unique eyes of blue and green.

"Imogen," he murmured. "How long shall we wait?"

He turned me around to look at him. His red eyes were staring at my own orbs of grey. Not a second later, he brushed the dark curls out of my face and cradled my cheek.

"I'm not her," I mumbled.

"No…you can never be the desire," he murmured.

I looked down, feeling a sting in my eyes and a pang in my chest.

"But you are what I wished for," he said. "One who is faithful."

"Bloodraven- "I started only to be silenced by his lips as he kissed me.

My eyes widen not expecting it. Not long after he pulled, back, "It's Brynden. Please call me Brynden."

"Brynden," I whispered.

His eyes flickered briefly to my lips before back to my eyes. He raised a hand to smooth my hair behind my ear. He watched me, examining my behavior seeing if this was a step out of bounds. Seeing that it was not, he leaned forward just a little more. Brynden trailed his hand from my shoulder down my arm to slide in and rest on the indent of my waist. Not long after he kissed me again, I gasped which he pushes his tongue against my own. My hands rose to his chest, and for a moment, my palms flattened against his tunic. Brynden leaned his hips against me so that I felt his arousal grow. I clutched the fabric, pulling him closer and opened my mouth more to him.

He pushed me back along the wall, sighing as his body was fully pressed against me. My breasts was pressed against his chest. His hands slide down along my waist to my butt, pulling me closer, tighter. Neither of us breaking the kiss. The library felt warm as if trapped in the sun. As if I was kissing fire…dragon fire.

Byrnden angled his head, deepening the kiss, I panted trying to keep up, yet he was more experienced than I. It caused me to want him more. More than kissing. He shifted slightly, pulling me towards the door.

"Do you trust me," he asked.

Lost for words, I nodded. So, we went to his room, as he closed the door only to press me against it yet again. He made a growl, bending low and clasping me around the waist, lifting me up against his erection. I gasped, sliding my arms around his shoulders and rocked my loins upon his.

"Imogen," he murmured against my ear that caused me to shudder.

He pulled back working on my tunic, tearing at the woven fabric over my head, revealing my breast. Exposing the tattoos the children of the forest had started engraving on my skin. Slowly Brynden traced his fingers on the intricate designs on my torso, causing my stomach to tighten under his touch.

"Brynden," I moaned.

Suddenly he snapped from his dazed and carried me to the bed. He laid me down on the feather mattress hovering over me, taking a moment looking at me.

"Brynden?" I asked, nervous if he was no longer interested.

Saying his name caught his attention as he looked up at me.

"I've never…," I mumbled.

He leaned down and peck me on the lips, "I will be gentle."

I nodded even though my physical form remains asleep; I don't know if I will feel the same pain a virgin will feel in the realm of spirits. Brynden smiled, lifting the birthmark on his cheek, making the bird's wing flap. Next leaning down, kissing me, this softly gently lashing his tongue on my lips as I permitted him. I moaned as his hands felt my thighs. I was already feeling damp between them. Brynden pulled his lips back and trailed them along my jaw and partway down my neck. He stopped at my collar bone sucking on the flesh, before returning to upwards to kiss behind my ear gently raking his teeth against the curve of my neck.

I gasped and moaned yet again, not realizing how sensitive the neck can be. He went lower until reaching my breast, taking a nipple into my mouth. I cursed in the Old Tongue feeling the bud being suckled into his mouth. Meanwhile, his hand cupped my other breast. My breast swelled even further at the attention, and the heat damped more. Brynden sighed as he fitted his against me. I clutched onto his tunic, pulling the fabric up, wanting to feet his skin. He realized what I was doing and pulled back to remove his tunic and shift, practically stripping away all of our clothes. Afterward, he leaned back down, returning to my breast again. I moaned, combing my fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by his touches.

As he continued, he moved his hand down and slid them along my folds, teasing the bundle of nerves. Instantly my hips buck to such a strange feeling. Brynden smiled softly as he pulled back, staring at me.

"Relax, my wild beauty," he murmured.

Nervously, I nodded.

Brynden kissed the top of my head just like he always did before rubbing down the slit. Once more, a strange feeling consumed me, parting the slick folds and rubbing the bundle of nerves above my opening. He continued rubbing, until sliding a finger inside my core. In and out his finger went, before adding a second one. My senses were shocked, overwhelmed not sure what to do if I were to return the favor or not. Realizing I was overthinking, he kissed me again this time with much passion. I was so lost, feeling the buildup down below as a third finger joined while moving faster — my stomach tightening, when all of a sudden, I came. I moaned against his lips as my muscles tighten around him.

Brynden smiled as he pulled back, removing his hand before getting into position, "Do I have your consent?"

Recovering from that sudden bliss, I nodded. Brynden kissed me again, taking hold of his cock and aligned it to my opening. He attempted a few times pressing in, on the third attempt he pushed in, passing my maidenhead. It was an intense sting, feeling my walls stretching towards his girth. All the way in, Brynden remained still allowing me to adjust to his size. We were now one, mentally and physically. By the time the pain started to recede, I opened my eyes and cradled his stained cheek giving the nod.

Brynden nodded as he started to move at a slow and steady pace. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his back bringing him close. He moved, thrusting into me, over and over again. I trembled beneath him feeling some pain but more pleasure. My body was singing to his touch. Unable to resist, I brought him down to kiss him, trying to kiss Brynden the same way as he kissed me. It wasn't long when I felt nothing but the pleasure that my hips moved against him. He took that as a good sign and increased his pace going faster and slightly harder.

He leaned upon his palms meeting my gaze. His jaw tight, the blissful agony on his face matching my own. I pressed my hand against his chest and curled my fingers into his snowy white hair. And with one hard deep thrust, we came together. Our bodies shuddered; his hips trembled against my own. His seeds were shooting deep inside while my muscles clenched around him. Both of us lost in our orgasms. Brynden collapsed on top of me, while I wrapped my arms around him. Neither of us wants to separate, so I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back. Brynden panted catching his breath, on occasion kissing my neck. Once we catch our breaths, he adjusted slightly looking into my eyes with a smile.

I smiled back, leaning up some to kiss him.

There were many times we made love when I visited him in my dreams. I loved him dearly, my first true love as he stole my heart. But during the last time, we share our encounter only to wake up out in the forest with Skadi by my side and both my spear and Dark Sister. My heart broke down in tears. I tried not to think about the last encounter, thankful for the mask covering my eyes.

**.o0o.**

_The Cave._

Jon chased after Ygritte as they entered through a cave. He was not in the mood, not only is Orell catching on to him, but Longclaw was taken. Longclaw was the only gift he ever had since joining the Night's Watch. Lord Commander Mormont gave it to him, after saving him from a Wight of the late Othro. Jon was already on thin ice since he told the wildings what three castles that were still standing and lied about how many Brothers are still at Castle Black. If what Imogen said is true about those who escaped from the wights…then there is barely two hundred or so men at Castle Black.

He stopped at the small cave, "Ygritte! Seven hells. Ygritte!"

He went inside, watching his step as he entered the cave and into a chamber. There was a hot spring and a small waterfall inside. He didn't know that caves could have hot springs. Ygritte had put Longclaw down along with the torch and her weapons. She started making her way over to him.

"Is Orell right?" Ygritte asked. "Are you still a crow?"

She came closer, stripping her furs, "It's time you proved yourself."

Jon eyes widen, realizing what she was doing, "Ygritte."

"You swore some vows," Ygritte said, taking her boots off. "I want you to break 'em." Her outer layers came off, along with her smock. "I want you to see me." Finally, she took off her trousers. "All of me."

She stood there naked before him with much pride. She was thin and leaned, some of her bones sticking out from the lack of nutrition the Free Folk have. And yet, she was beautiful in Jon's eyes. She smiled, seeing the struggle he was going through. This was her test to see if he was still a Crow or not. She wasn't one for traditions, then again, Jon Snow did steal her along the mountains. Therefore, she was technically his wife, but she will not admit to that. She did not want to scare the poor boy than he already is.

Ygritte walked closer to him, getting into his space.

"We shouldn't," Jon whispered.

"We should," she whispered back, before claiming his lips.

Jon instantly kissed her back, only to pull away. But the girl kissed by fire did not falter as she continues to kiss him. This time Jon kissed her again, timid at first but soon got comfortable. His hands were wrapped around her form, feeling her waist. He moved down, kissing her neck, down to her chest and breast, until he was on his knees kissing her sternum. Ygritte breathed heavily not sure what he was doing., her fingers tangling in her dark locks.

"Why are you still dressed?" She asked while he kissed her fiery mons. "You know nothing, Jon Sno—"

She gasped as he parted her folds with his tongue and suckled her bundle of nerves. She gasped, almost losing her bearings, luckily Jon held her up only to move one of her legs over his shoulder.

Well then…he does know some things, Ygritte thought.

**.o0o.**

They made love, although it confirmed to Ygritte that Jon Snow was indeed a virgin. As it was quick, yet he did some things to her that made her came. She came twice, one he did with his mouth and the second time inside her, as his hands touched her clit. They laid on their furs, recovering from their orgasms and resting. Although, Ygritte being a curious person, wanted to know how Jon Snow, a virgin knew a few tricks.

She pressed against his form, resting her head on his shoulder, "That thing you did with your mouth –is that what lords do to their ladies in the South?"

Jon adjusted his form, wrapping his arm around her, "I don't know. I just wanted to kiss you there is all."

"Hmm." She replied.

"You seemed to like it," he murmured.

"Aye, I liked it," she agreed, tracing his chest, then his lips. "Who taught you that?"

Jon smiled, "There's been no one else. Only you."

"A maid," she smiled. "You were a maid."

Jon rolled his eyes, "I was a man of the Night's Watch. How about you? Were you a maid?"

She raised an eyebrow, "What do you think?"

"Who was he?" he grumbled, slightly jealous, his hand tracing over the spiral tattoo on her shoulder..

"Just a boy," she assured, now twiddling with the ends of his hair. "He came trading with his brothers. He had red hair like me. Kissed by fire. But . . . he was weak. Not like you." She kissed his shoulder, then added. "That was the first one."

Jon scoffed.

"Then there was this Thenn boy. Spoke no Common, but gods, he was built like a mammoth."

Jon cleared his throat, "Yeah, thanks. I think I've heard enough." He combed his fingers through her hair and cradled her cheek." We'd best get back. Tormund –"

Ygritte stopped him, straddling his waist, her core pressing against his member, "I'm not done with you yet."

She gave him a kiss which he returned.

When they pulled back to breathe, she grinned, "How long's it been since you had a bath?"

Before Jon could answer, she jumped off him and leaped into the spring. Jon chuckled as he got up and joined her. They moved closer to one another in an embrace, kissing each other. By the time they needed to breathe, she had rested her forehead against his.

"Let's not go back," she murmured. "Let's stay here a while longer. I don't ever want to leave this cave, Jon Snow. Not ever."

Jon cradled her cheek and looked into her blue eyes. He too did not want to leave this cave. Under a short period of time, he was falling in love with the wilding. He was conflicted, for he was on a mission to return home, but at the same time, he was making a second home with Ygritte. Not sure what else to do, he kissed her.

* * *

**A little bit more about Imogen's relationship with Bloodraven.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 5: The Climb

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Climb**

_Ygritte's POV_

Ygritte and Jon knew they needed to come out of the cave in order to do the mission. Although neither one wanted to leave the cave. They were happy, there was no need to think about the White Walkers and the Night's Watch. However, they've made a promise. So, they got dressed, securing their gear before coming out for the early hours of the morning. As Skadi, as promised, guarded the entrance to their spring to prevent another Free Folk from disturbing them. Jon was a bit embarrassed at the thought, yet Ygritte smiled softly petting the giant direwolf's head, promising to get her some rabbits later.

Once done petting Skadi, she looked up to the lake for Imogen. Seeing her friend standing by the lake, her arm extended over the water while Frigg flew around the lake. No doubt she was warging, but this was not the usual warging. No, Ygritte knew that Imogen's time with the Children of the Forest taught her how to connect to the earth. If one is very quiet and listen's carefully, they can hear the Warg speak in the language of the children. It almost sounded like Old Tongue, yet different, almost in song.

Jon seemed to notice, "What is she doing?"

"She's trying to wake spring," Ygritte explained.

"Spring?" Jon asked.

Ygritte nodded listening to the song, "Long ago there were parts of green as the tree on the valleys and fields while the mountains contained the snow."

There has been no season for them beyond the Wall. It has always been winter. Unless one lives by the springs, it has been snow and ice. Jon remained silent as he listens to the chanting while Frigg made unique motions in the sky.

"Long ago she vanished, five years ago amongst the children," Ygritte said.

Jon looked at her to explain.

"The Children of the Forest took her along with the Three-Eyed Raven, making her one of 'em. But they no longer wanted her. Tossed her aside in the snow, marring her skin to warn us how the war for the living ends."

She thought back a few years ago. Inside a tent when arriving back to her clan to be treated after being rescued against the wights. Imogen's clothes were tight and worn no longer fit her. The wise woman of the clan treated any possible wounds, yet the only signs of injury was the lack of nutrition. So, when Ygritte entered the tent she saw Imogen's back. Seeing the blue, green, and black stains taking the shape of artwork that is seen in the caves from the Children of the Forest had left behind. The markings were swirling around her back taking the form of a Weirwood tree. Ygritte had touched it, tracing along the lines of the hidden images on animals in the bark and branches. Making out the wolf, a raven and some sort of creature she has never seen — the war ending at a weirwood tree.

Ygritte felt sorry for Imogen. At the beginning of her return, Imogen had isolated herself; she only talked when needed and kept a distance. Almost like a spearwife from another tribe being stolen to a different culture. The fiery spearwife had to earn her friend's trust to get out of her silence. She was learning about what happened in those five years.

Once the singing ended, Frigg returned to land on Imogen's arm. Ygritte came over to Imogen with caution, as she stood beside her friend. Seeing the whites of her eyes return to grey. Slowly she put her hand on Imogen's shoulder. The Warg sighed, taking her other hand and rested it on Ygritte's own. No words need to be said. They were bonded as friends, practically sisters since they were little girls.

"Once we're south, all will be well," Ygritte promised.

"It's never well, not until the Long Night is done," Imogen said, staring back to the lake.

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

I gave Ygritte's hand a squeeze, appreciating her comfort. After remembering Brynden, I tried to escape the feeling by having a bath in a different spring. It helped for a moment along with drinking some spiked booze with Tormund before falling into a deep sleep. I tried so hard not to think about Brynden, better to call him Bloodraven and pretend he was only a dream. Somebody who is already dead. I cursed the Three-Eyed Raven for his magical abilities to connect the past, the dead, and warging all into one. However, I was at fault as well. Therefore, when I woke before the dawn, I went over to the lake and did a chant that Leaf taught me while warging into Frigg over the lake. A song about the return of spring.

Anyway, we joined the others for a quick breakfast before heading south. Tormund who has experience with these parts, says it will be a day's journey before reaching the Wall. So, eating the remainders of rabbits and foxes, we departed. As usual, I rode on Skadi, wanting as much time with her before we are temporarily separated. Ygritte hopped on as well.

_"So…did you succeed?"_ I asked.

Ygritte had a wicked grin, "_A maid. He was a maid before I took him."_

I snorted, shaking my head. She wrapped her arms around my waist tighter leaning into my ear as she whispered.

_"And he did things with his tongue. Kissed me on my lower lips."_

I suppressed a chuckle, although the thought of Bloodraven performing the same act on me long ago. I believe the act is called cunnilingus. Either way, I merely shrugged. Usually, it's all about penetration sex for the Free Folk.

_"Hopefully, you'll find someone,"_ she assured.

I sighed, not sure if I will ever find someone. All I care about is getting the Free Folk south of the Wall and prepare for the Long Night. I may have seen the past, but I've seen a few possible futures. One that is most definitely what the Children of the Forest stained on my skin.

Time went on as we continue south. It would be around dusk when arriving at the Wall. We kept to the forest to be hidden of any possible Crows on patrol. Tormund decided to rest since we will need all the strength we needed for the big climb tomorrow. Small fires were assembled as gathered around. Ygritte sat by Jon both whispering to each other.

I sighed, pulling out Dark Sister and check on the blade to make sure it was sharp. I hardly use Dark Sister except to practice. The sword was extremely sharp that anytime I train with a partner, their weapons are split in half after a few strikes. Bloodraven once said the sword was made out of Valyrian steel. Made out of the lightest, most durable, and sharpest material in the entire world. Once saying Valyrian steel was forged out of dragon fire. Let alone its first owner was a strong woman.

"Who did you steal that sword from?" Jon asked.

"I didn't steal it," I answered.

Jon gave a questionable look.

"And how did you steal your fancy sword?" I countered.

"It was gifted to me, by Lord Commander Mormont," he replied showing the sword. "Longclaw."

He offered it to me to look at it, as I handed over my sword.

"Dark Sister," I told him of the sword's name.

Jon's eyes widen as if I found the most valuable treasure. "This sword disappeared since Brynden River went missing almost fifty years ago. Where did you find it?"

"Under a Weirwood Tree," I replied.

Jon gave a questionable look, yet I was telling the truth. I examined Longclaw. It was slightly shorter than Dark Sister. A hand and a half handle while the pommel being white, probably carved bone in shape of a wolf with two red gems for eyes. An albino wolf. I pulled the handle a bit to see the blade being just like Dark Sister of Damascus design, resembling fire trapped in the blade.

After a moment we switch the blades back to their rightful owners.

"You know how to use that?" he asked.

I raised a brow which Ygritte chuckle.

"If you like 'em pretty fingers, you better not ask," she said.

I nodded before putting the sword away and leaned back against Skadi. My hands were combing through her black fur. Humming a melody to a tune the Dire.

**.o0o.**

Everyone was preparing for the climb. All the men and women were securing their supplies and spiked shoes to be tight and if not secured. Orell was helping Tormund, as Ygritte, Jon and I were getting our things together.

"Used to be you couldn't find a tree within a mile of the Wall," Tormund said. "Crows would come out of every morning with axes."

Once secured, he walked off.

Orell went over to get his supplies, though stopped to look at Jon, "Your flock gets smaller every year."

"Orell, go help Tormund," I warned.

"Scout the Wall," he countered, before walking away.

I sighed and stared at Skadi. Once everyone is ready, we will be going our separate ways. I have never physically been separated from Skadi. The longest would be at least a week during the wolves mating season. Although, any attempt of a mate for Skadi doesn't meet her expectation. As She-wolves are picky in finding a suitable mate, since wolves mate for life. The same with the Dires. The thought had me trace the pommel of Dark Sister. Sadly, spiritual guidance is not the same as the real world. Nor the absents of time when traveling through the past with the Three-Eyed Raven or learning from Bloodraven.

"You've ever climbed it before?" Jon asked.

Ygritte, who was gathering the spikes, shook her head, "No."

While I shook my head, it's been a year maybe two since the last time I was by the Wall. When I was too late to save the small tribe and helped one of the three crows to escape from a White Walker.

"But Tormund's done it half a hundred times," Ygritte added.

"Didn't he say he fucked a she-bear on an island of bears?" I asked.

Ygritte chuckled, "I believe he has."

Jon turned pale, almost the same shade as his namesake.

Ygritte noticed this, "You're afraid."

Jon scoffed, "Aren't you?"

"Aye," Ygritte agreed. "It's a long way up and a long way down. But I've waited my whole life to see the world from up there."

"I know," I agreed as well.

"Oi," as she threw a snowball at me. "Go fly up the Wall."

I chuckled, knowing it was best to double-check the Wall, I called for Frigg who swooped down from the trees and landed on my shoulder. I patted her neck for a moment to ease comfort before warging inside her to examine the Wall in search of weak spots and any Crows on the top.

Many people forget that a warg can hear what is happening in their surroundings while in their animals. We can hear, almost like a whisper in the background until someone shouts our name and gives a shove to snap out of the connection. It was essential to listen to any sounds of humans, for if we stay too long in the animal we inhabit, we start to lose ourselves. So, as I flew across the Wall, I could hear Ygritte and Jon having a conversation.

"Here, sit down. I brought a pair for you," Ygritte told Jon. "They're too big for you, but they're good."

"You kill someone for them?" Jon asked.

"Nah." She teased, "I didn't kill him, "but I bet his balls are still bruised."

Jon chuckled.

"He wasn't good to me the way you're good to me. He didn't do that thing you do with your tongue."

"Can we not talk about that here?"

"Can we not talk about that here?" she mocked. "I'm Jon Snow. I've killed dead men and Qhorin Halfhand, but I'm scared of naked girls."

"Did I seem scared the other day?"

"You were trembling like a leaf."

"Only in the beginning."

"Only in the beginning," she chuckled then said. "You're a proper lover, Jon Snow. And don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

"What secret?" he asked.

"Do you think I'm as dumb as all those girls in silk dresses you knew growing up? You're loyal, and you're brave. You didn't stop being a crow the day you walked into Mance Rayder's tent."

Silence.

"But I'm your woman now, Jon Snow. You're going to be loyal to your woman. The Night's Watch don't care if you live or die. Mance Rayder don't care if I live or die. We're just soldiers in their armies and there's plenty more to carry on if we go down. . . It's you and me that matters to me and you. Don't ever betray me."

"I won't," he promised.

"'Cause I'll cut your pretty cock right off and wear it 'round my neck."

Once at the top I can see there were no signs of Crows and checking the small base there appears to be no indication of being inhabited. If we can make it to the top of the Wall by dusk, we can clear the next morning. Just as I was about to return to my body, a hand grabbed my shoulder, giving a good shake.

I gasped with slight fright and whiplash as my spirit returned to my vessel. It was Tormund who held a pair of spike shoes.

"Damn you. Don't do that," I growled.

Tormund gave an amused smirk, "Put them on."

I grabbed the spikes before sitting down and putting them on. Skadi nudged my shoulder, nervous in what is to come. Tormund walked over to Jon handing him the handle of the pickax. Jon accepted, which Tormund pulled him up on his feet.

"Sink your metal deep and make sure it holds before taking your next step," Tormund advised. "And if you fall, don't scream. You don't want that to be the last thing she remembers."

Tormund laughs patting Jon on the shoulder. Ygritte chuckled while I gave an amused smirk. Although, Jon kept a concerned if not frightened face once more looking at the Wall. Although, I glance at the Crow and turn my attention to Ygritte, I gave her a cautious look. If she doesn't turn Jon Snow, then either Tormund, Orell, and I will kill him unless the Wall does.

Once everyone was ready and secured, we made our way to the Wall. It was seven-hundred feet tall. Roughly eight-thousand years old, built right after the end of the first Long Night. Its entire purpose is to keep the White Walkers out of Westeros, though as centuries passed, it separated the Free folk from our ancestral home. Our ancestors went beyond the Wall to scout for a possible return of the Others only to be betrayed by their brothers. Forgotten and be compared to a savage. Now it was time to take back what has been ours before the Andals plagued our ancestors' brothers' minds.

A few campfires were set at the bottom with long branches.

"What are those for?" Jon asked.

"Can't have you coming back if you fall," I said.

"But who will light them up?" he asked.

Skadi came over as she took one end of the branches in her mouth and picked it up. Jon's eyes widen, not expecting how intelligent Direwolves are. I petted Skadi as did Ygritte which the black wolf enjoyed the attention. Although she gave a slight whimper for this will be the longest time, we will be apart. Separated by a Wall of Ice.

"We will meet again," I assure her in the Old Tongue.

Skadi whimpered once more nudging me with her snout and gave a lick on the cheek. I smiled softly scratching behind her ear. Before whispering her the instruction that after two days to take care of the fallen to travel east to join Fenrir and Valko. She nodded, giving a gentle nip on my arm.

It was challenging to pull away from my familiar as I walked over to Tormund who chose myself, Orell, Ygritte, and Jon to be in his group. And in that order is how he will lead us. I gave him a questionable look, wondering why he is keeping me close, praying to the old gods because I was his friend's daughter or that I have knowledge of the past that can be useful. Either way, we took the rope and tied it around our waists and hips. Dark Sister was already secured to my back impossible for it to fall off. Jon did the same for Longclaw. Once we were absolutely secured, Tormund went ahead, and I followed.

Taking hold of the pickaxe and struck the ice deep before climbing.

This was going to be a long day.

**.o0o.**

We were halfway up the Wall, the air becoming cold as the winds started to pick up, my arms and legs ache from the constant climbing yet, I kept motivating myself to keep going. But most importantly, to not look down. When I warg into Frigg, seeing the world below being small was nothing. However, as a human, it was not a pleasant feeling. Not even climbing mountains hold the same appeal as it does with the Wall.

Tormund secured another link before climbing up.

"You staring at my ass, Jon Snow?" Ygritte bellowed playfully.

Tormund struck on a weak spot causing ice to fall, "Look out."

The cluster of ice passed me while Orell turned a bit. The cluster even missed Ygritte, except it struck Jon in the face causing him to lose his grip and fall. Fortunately, the belay that Tormund inserted caught him.

"You all right?" Ygritte yelled.

"Just seeing if you can take a hit, lad," Tormund jest.

I rolled my eyes; this was definitely going to be a long day.

We climbed another hundred feet. A storm was passing by, that the winds were howling to mask the men's communication. Everyone was yelling from the top of their lungs, yet it was difficult to hear. How the men do this for supplies on a regular base baffles me. Everything was cold as if spending the night without shelter.

Suddenly there was a sound of a crack. Tormund stopped as did I to wait for the inevitable, yet the crackling did not come our way. Instead, it went to our right from below as the crackling grew louder, causing the ice to shatter and making way towards our comrades. An avalanche erupted, taking six of our people down before the crack destructive way. Immediately I stabbed my way into the ice and held on for dear life. Ygritte screams echoed in my ear, followed by the rope tightening around my waist in a painful constriction. I gasped, along with Orell and Tormund for Ygritte and Jon fell. Our hold on the Wall is what is keeping them from falling to death. Except their weights were not helping.

"We've gotta cut them loose!" Orell exclaimed.

"No!" Tormund yelled. Trying to hold the rope.

I cried out, praying that Ygritte can grab hold of the Wall. The pain continues to tighten, making it impossible to think straight. However, Orell did not open Tormund's orders and took a knife out and started to cut the rope. He was willing to let Ygritte and Jon die so the rest of us could live. Survival, no matter who it is, it is all about survival.

The storm blocked the view from what was happening. As the dark masses of Ygritte and Jon swaying as if trying to get hold of a solid piece of the mountain. It happened so fast as Orell cut the rope and the weight reduced. My eyes widen, expecting to hear my best friend fall to her death along with her lover. Except, it was shortly followed by a yelp and gasp. Looking down, I saw Jon had managed to reach a ledge and was pulling her up.

"Take my hand!" Jon bellowed.

Ygritte managed to grab it as he pulled her up.

"I can't see them!" Tormund yelled.

"Jon secured their line!" I shouted back.

I could only imagine Tormund giving a sigh of relief before going back to the climb again. It will be harder for Ygritte and Jon since they don't have belays to secure the rope. But knowing my fiery friends, she is one lucky spearwife. So, having faith in her, I continue to climb, dragging Orell up as well.

**.o0o.**

Tormund made it to the top. He climbed over, giving a pant before pulling the rope up and grabbing my arm. With a forceful yank, he pulled me over and set me aside so he can grab Orell. All three of us panted, our muscles sore and waist and hips aching despite how thick of our fur coats are. Tormund gave a laugh patting me on the shoulder as he went to collect the rope. I stared up to the sky, seeing Frigg and Orell's eagle flying about.

Orell sat up as he helps to sit properly and remove the rope, so it was no longer constricting me. It was getting late that it was not wise to climb down in the evening even if it was covering us from potential crows. Tormund laughed as he rolled up the roll.

"You spent too long under a tree," Tormund joked.

I muttered some insult as I adjusted Dark Sister and my pack. A sound of hacking could be heard as a pickax stabbed the top of the Wall. Standing up, I got over to help the person up. It was Ygritte, as she desperately held onto my arm as I pulled her back. She quickly grabbed the abandoned rope the Crows left. Before I moved to help Jon as he grunted his way up. I set him next to Ygritte as the two panted, catching their breaths. Letting the two have some privacy, I went back to Orell who was checking the supplies although he stopped to glance at the two for a moment.

He did what any Free Folk would do. Calculating three lives against two. Even though I would have been mad at him for some time, he did what it means to survive despite the fact that the dangers were already in. We lost six people. Thirty people came with us, and we lost six of our comrades. More will be joining from different parts of the Wall. Hopefully, we have enough to go against possibly a thousand Crows.

I got up ignoring the pain and noticed Jon and Ygritte locked in a passionate kiss. I smiled slightly, not seeing Ygritte this happy in a long time. So, I turned my attention to the other side of the Wall, observing the valley of green hills, forests, and mountain tops. It has been so long since I saw this view with the Three-Eyed Raven. I saw the South actually for real, as dusk started to set.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


	7. Chapter 6: The Descent

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Descent**

_Imogen's POV_

We spent the night on top of the Wall. Everyone was exhausted from the climb. Six people were dead from our group. Many of us wanted to light a fire a cook some meat, but it would be a risk of exposing us, a villager from the south of the Wall could notice us and report to the Crows. During the night, I warged into Frigg and checked on Skadi.

The black direwolf was safe, not being a casualty from the breakage. She collected the fallen, digging them up from the rubble and dragged them out so she could take them to the firepits and cremated their bodies to prevent their resurrection. I was proud of her. She and I were connected; the Three-Eyed Raven taught us how to be linked, making her more intelligent than the average direwolf. She will definitely be getting a tasty treat once I can get her through the tunnel.

Knowing that she was safe, I tried to get some sleep leaning against a wooden shack that was on top of the Wall. Sitting next to Orell and Tormund. A waterskin filled with fermented berry juice was passed around to warm your inside before catching some shut eyes.

When morning came, we gathered together to figure out what to do. As we looked over the edge on the south side, trying to figure a way down. Orell and I warged into our birds to see if the nearest castles on the Wall had any safe passage down. Unfortunately, the abandoned castle staircases had rotten away or fell apart. There was one with a mechanical device, a lift; only the mechanism works from the bottom, not the top.

"Is there a way down?" Ygritte asked.

"Yeah, falling," I answered.

Ygritte snorted, knowing I was being sarcastic. We could climb down, though it will be time-consuming and very dangerous since if you pull your pickax too hard, you could lose balance and fall. So, a plan was set, Tormund and those with more climbing experience will take the rope and create a chain that we can slide down. Only we have to be careful. So, there were three links we must grab before reaching the bottom. Therefore, we made sure our leather gloves were padded so we wouldn't receive any rope burn.

Ygritte, Jon, and I watched Tormund and Orell with the other experienced climbers go down. When it was our turn, it was intense. I took a deep breath and secured the ropes before climbing down. Once we were at the bottom, everyone acquired their things and started to head south. The objective is to take cover in the forest and head East towards Castle Black.

It's been a while since I saw green that wasn't from a tree. The only place that was similar to this environment was in Lunar Haven. Hopefully, we can secure passage for my clan, and the other Free Folk can cross over. The Three-Eyed Raven once stated that the Wall has magical properties that prevent the White Walkers from crossing the Wall. If we can get the Free Folk south, we can buy ourselves some time to prepare for the Long Night.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon walked with the wildings toward the south for the nearest forest. It was still a long distance, as the hills and field make it seem like the woods were close but were actually far away. Never had he thought of climbing the Wall. He had the privilege to take the lift up. There was some advantage that delayed their travels. After Imogen and Orell warg into their bird, finding the nearest forts were in no condition to climb down. Only it made him cautious around for the two Wargs. If he escapes, they will find him. Either he gets rid of the Wargs or find another way to make his escape. But could he betray Ygritte, after what has happened in the cave?

"How far are we?" Ygritte asked.

"About a week, I think," Jon estimated.

"You think?" she asked. "You don't know?"

"When we went to Castle Black, we took the kingsroad," he explained.

Ygritte scoffed, "You and your roads. Is that how you lot do your fighting?"

She stopped by a pair of rocks, sitting down to adjust her boots that became loose. Jon sat down as well, taking a moment to rest. He looked up, seeing Imogen passing them, not minding them at all. Her face covered by the wolf mask. He was curious about what Ygritte said the other day. That the end in the Great War was written on the Warg's back, let alone the bizarre tale, that the Children of the Forest raised the Dire.

"You march down the road banging drums and waving banners?" she continued, removing her gloves to do the fastening of the strings easier.

"Most of the time, yes," he confirmed.

"How do the men holding the banners fight?" she asked.

Jon was impressed Ygritte knew about banners. He assumed Mance Rayder mentioned them or a crow that was sadly captured before being executed by the wildings.

"They don't, really," he answered. "It's a great honor to carry your house sigil."

"And the drummers—is that a great honor, too?"

"Usually, it's the young boys banging the drums."

"So what good are they?"

"They help the men march?"

"How?"

"Well, it's – it's the rhythm."

"Oh, you mean right foot, left foot," as she stood up jokingly march about around the rock. "Right foot, left foot, right foot?"

Jon chuckled, shaking his head.

"When Mance gives the signal, and we hit Castle Black, we won't be banging on drums to let them know we're coming," she said, picking up her pack.

"No," he sighed, standing up. "No, you're just gonna light the biggest fire the North has ever seen to let them know you're coming."

"You know nothing, Jon Snow," Ygritte warned, before walking away.

"She's right, you don't," Orell said, coming up behind Jon.

Jon scowled, for he hasn't forgotten what happened on the Wall, how Orell attempted to cut the rope and let them fall to their deaths, leaving Tormund, Imogen, and himself to survive.

"I know you cut me loose on the Wall," Jon growled.

"Cut her loose, too," Orell said, evident as a matter of fact. "Do you see her sulking about it?" he shook his head. "That's because she understands the way things are."

Jon got in Orell's face, "And are you gonna share it with me? The deep wisdom you found inside the head of a bird?"

"People work together when it suits them. They're loyal when it suits them. They love each other when it suits them. And they kill each other when it suits them. She knows that you don't. Which is why you'll never hold onto her." Orell murmured before walking ahead.

Jon stood there, watching him leave.

Orell was, indeed, a threat.

**.o0o.**

_Ygritte's POV_

They had made camp. By dawn, everyone woke and started packing their things to continue onward. Ygritte was a bit bitter with Jon Snow after his Crow side was showing and slept next to Imogen. Her best friend made her anger vanished when singing a song that many of the Free Folk know about. One that brought hope to them from a promise made long ago.

Now it was dawn as the two rolled up their fur mats. Tormund was standing in front of Jon, giving a lesson about the art of lovemaking, making it very uncomfortable for Jon Snow, at the same time, very amusing.

"Most men fuck like dogs," Tormund explained, exaggerating as he mimics fucking with his bedroll while grunting. "No grace, no skill. A few dozen thrusts and done." He tossed the bedroll on the ground. "You need to be patient. Give her time. Your cock shouldn't go near her till she's slick as a baby seal. And then you go in her, but slowly. Don't jam it in like you're spearing a pig." The redhead laughed. "Come on!"

Of course, that didn't stop Tormund Giantsbane from smacking Jon on the back.

"Hey, come on!" Tormund yelled, getting everyone going.

"I wonder who taught him that lesson," Imogen whispered, trying to lighten the mood for her friend.

Ygritte snorted, rolling her eyes as the two got up, securing their packs before following the group. They walk in silence for a bit. Until Imogen spotted Orell coming over to them. He gave a silent look to the Warg maiden, requesting to speak with Ygritte. She nodded, increasing her step leaving the two in private.

"You think he loves you, is that it?" Orell asked. "What did he tell you? He's gonna make you his lady and live with you in some castle?"

"No, he didn't tell me anything," Ygritte answered. "He barely talks."

"I've seen you two whispering in the night, giggling like a pair of girls," Orell countered.

"What, you're jealous?" she sarcastically asked.

"Of course, I'm jealous," he confessed, not afraid in telling the truth. "You should be with one of your own."

"And you're one of my own? I've never heard a kind of word from your mouth."

Orell grabbed her arm and stopped her. He was serious. They were together for a short time, but she ran off with her clan before they could make it official. Ygritte was a wild free spirit. She was fire, as her hair was kissed by fire. More independent than most spearwives.

"You would if you were mine," he said. "I'd tell you that you're beautiful and fierce and wild. I'd be good for you."

Ygritte looked down, avoiding his blue eyes.

"You love him?" he asked.

She looked up to him and nodded.

Orell took a deep breath, "'Cause he's pretty? Is that it?"

She gave him a hard look.

"You like his pretty hair and his pretty eyes?" he taunted. "You think pretty is gonna make you happy?"

"Don't touch me," she warned, pulling her arm away.

"You won't love him so much when you find out what he really is." He promised spitefully before walking ahead.

Ygritte stood there watching Orell leave. She thought Orell was cautious with Jon Snow. But it seems she wasn't the only one who knew of Jon's secret. Ygritte made a mistake about Imogen, forgetting Wargs could hear what is going on when inside an animal. However, Imogen, being a good friend, was giving Ygritte a chance to conform Jon to their way of life. Now it was Orell that seems to be a problem. She though Orell had moved on, but it seems he hadn't. Jealousy and suspicion are not a good combination, and it may get Jon killed.

**.o0o.**

The following day, Ygritte took Jon to go hunting with her. Usually, she would have taken Imogen, but Ygritte wanted to show off her hunting skills to Jon. So, they scavenged the forest until coming across a rocky terrane. There they spotted a female elk. Jon didn't think she would get it, considering the elk was too far away. Oh, he was mistaken as she shot the elk right through the eye. Jon literally gulped, not wanting to piss her off.

Ygritte was pleased when they dragged the carcass back to camp. Tormund was excited as were many who will enjoy tonight's supper instead of dried meats and herbs. Even Imogen as she came over collecting some blood and put it in a small leather skin. Something to put in a stew if they have the time. So, after the hunt, they continue east on a rugged terrane.

The huntress who was kissed by fire was pleased. As she continued to walk, she noticed a building. A long circular tower. She stopped to awe at the architecture, never seeing something like this before. There were few houses in the True North, one belonging to Crasters and several in Hardhome. Those were made of wood and bone, not out of stone.

"Is that a palace?" Ygritte asked aloud.

Jon stopped, coming over to her, seeing what it was. He was surprised that Ygritte didn't know what the building was, "It's a windmill."

"Windmill," she said in awe. "Who built it? Some king?"

Jon shrugged, "Just the men who used to live here."

"They must have been great builders, stacking stones so high." She murmured.

"Winterfell has towers three times that size," he added.

Ygritte chuckled, using her mocking voice, "I'm Jon Snow, and I'm from Winterfell. My daddy was a fancy lord, and I live in a tower that touched the clouds."

This amused him, "If you're impressed by a windmill, you'd be _'swooning'_ if you saw the Great Keep at Winterfell."

She stopped and looked at him, never hearing the word swooning before. On occasion, Mance and Imogen would use words that were not common to the Free Folk. Then again, Mance was raised by the Night's Watch, while the Three-Eyed Raven and Bloodraven educated Imogen. So, Ygritte learned some words, yet it seems new ones keep coming after her.

"What's swooning?" she asked.

"Fainting," Jon explained.

Another new word to her, "What's fainting?"

Jon was surprised then again; the Free Folk did not receive the proper education. They relied on common sense. He took a moment to think of a better definition for Ygritte.

"When a girl sees blood and collapses."

"Why would a girl see blood and collapse?" she asked, finding it strange.

"Well…" he paused, trying to explain. ". . . not all girls are like you."

Ygritte scoffed, "Well, girls see more blood than boys. Or do you like girls who swoon, Jon Snow?" she then went to being dramatic, gasping. "Oh, a spider! Save me, Jon Snow. "she then twirls leaning against him. "My dress is made of the purest silk from Tralalalaleeday."

Jon smiled as he leaned down, "I'd like to see you in a silk dress."

Ygritte pulled back, adjusting her bow, "Would you?"

Jon grabbed the fronts of her fur coat, pulling her close, "So I could tear it off you."

She found this arousing. Usually, she was the dominant one in the relationship, but seeing this side of him was fun and enticing.

"Well, you rip my pretty silk dress, I'll blacken your eye," she playfully threatens.

She smiled walking away to catch up with the others. Jon soon followed her.

"Maybe one day I'll take you to Winterfell," he said.

She turned around, walking backward, "Or maybe one day I'll take you there. After we've taken our land back."

She then continues walking forward.

"Ygritte," Jon called out softly with dismay.

The tone caught her attention and turned around to face him. Seeing the sorrow in his expression.

"You won't win," he said. "I know your people are brave, no one denies that."

"You know nothing—"

"Six times in the last thousand years, a King-beyond-the-Wall has attacked the kingdoms." He interrupted her. "Six times they failed."

"And how do you know that?" she asked with caution.

She knew of the six failures since the stories were passed down. Especially when Imogen returned and told her about the battles, she saw with the Three-Eyed Raven, and the ones before since the Andals took over and destroyed the relations of the First Men. True Northmen were trying to come home.

"Everybody in the North knows it," he explained. "We grow up learning it. Where the battles were fought, the names of heroes, who died where. Six times you've invaded, and six times you've failed. The seventh will be the same."

"Mance is different," she argued.

"You don't have the discipline." He disagreed. "You don't have the training. Your army is no army. You don't know how to fight together."

"You don't know that!" she exclaimed, stomping over to him.

"I do," he barked. "I know it. If you attack the Wall, you'll die. All of you."

She scowled, "All of _'us_.'"

She grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him to a boulder. Ygritte could see his crow side showing. She wanted Jon to believe in her people. They have the advantage. Imogen has seen the past, pointing out the mistakes the previous Kings-beyond-the-Wall had made, and Mance Rayder knows Castle Black, despite his twenty-year absence. They have the advantage of experience Crow and a Warg Maiden. Nothing can go wrong, especially in their numbers. What the Free Folk have is desperation for survival. They may not fight in a unique order or skilled of fancy combat, but they know how to fight.

Ygritte kissed him desperately, taking the breath from him. Jon kissed her back, though he was hesitant. The kiss grew passionate. Once air was needed, did they pulled back to breathe.

"You're mine as I'm yours," she reminded out of breath.

Blue eyes were staring deep into dark orbs.

"And if we die, we die," she whispered. "But first, we'll live."

"Yes, first we'll live," he whispered back.

Ygritte nodded as they returned to kissing.

* * *

**I know this chapter is short. I promise the next one will be longer.**

**Thank you all for reading and please leave a review.**


	8. Chapter 7: Traitor

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Traitor**

_Imogen's POV_

I laid on my bedroll tossing and turning, having dreams I have not seen in a long time. Flashes from the past, the present, and possible future. Once more, the Three-Eyed Raven showed himself in his animal form, a raven with three eyes. Cawing at me, as the flashes of a young boy with dark hair and eyes. One with a dire wolf, falling from a tower, a cripple. Suddenly I found myself in a small clearing surrounded by weirwood trees and a heart tree that faced upon a pond. The boy stood there, confused as he looked at me. I examined my condition, seeing I was in my Dire attire, of a grey woven dress, a leather vest, and a wolf-skin cloak.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"I could ask the same," I replied.

A raven flew across us and landed on the heart tree. It took me a moment examining the boy then back at the Three-Eyed Raven. I scowled, walking over to the bird.

"He is only a child," I bellowed.

"As were you," the Three-Eyed Raven said in a deep voice.

I tensed, "You stole me from my clan. You tricked me. Now you use others to lead the child to the slaughter. Let him live his life, not an eternal slumber."

"Imogen," the Three-Eyed Raven cawed.

I rushed over to the boy placing my hand on his shoulder, "Listen to me, boy. Do not fall for his tricks. No matter what he offers you, do not accept. For if you do, you will lose yourself. You will no longer be you. You will forget everyone you love."

"What do you mean?" the boy asked, then his eye went towards my neck. Seeing the tattoo that resigns on the right side of my neck that took the shape of a wolf's head. "That's my house sigil."

The Three-Eyed Raven cawed, trying to break the conversation. I took out my dirk, grabbing the boy's hand, cutting his palm while I cut my own. Entwining our fingers, I started chanting in the language of the children, doing a spell to protect his mind and soul. I stared into his dark eyes, seeing he has the blood of the First Men and Andal. He was more than a warg and a greenseer. A powerful greenseer who is too young to lose his identity.

The Three-Eyed Raved cawed and attacked breaking the vision.

I was woken up as my body convulsed.

"Imogen!" Ygritte called out.

These episodes were common with those of magical abilities. Greensight is a taxing thing that takes a toll on the mind and body; my body was tense and twisted. My vision covered by a bright light. I felt hands on me, as my head was moved onto someone's lap while a piece of leather was placed in my mouth. The method is to prevent grinding my teeth from biting my tongue off.

"I'm right here with you," Ygritte murmured.

The seizure continued as my body convulsed. Another person grabbed my legs, preventing me from kicking, while with one hand I grabbed onto Ygritte's arm, grasping onto reality.

"What's wrong with her?" Jon asked.

"Warging and visions take their toll," Ygritte answered.

"The more you join with the animals, the harder it becomes," Orell said. "The worse feeling is when being killed inside the animal."

After a while, the seizure ended, and I regained control of my body. Ygritte removed the leather from my mouth and helped me sit up. Orell adjusted my legs.

"What did you see?" Orell asked.

"I saw a boy," I mumbled. "A boy who fell from a tower and falling into the Three-Eyed Raven's temptation. I tried to warn him."

Tormund came over, patting my shoulder, "It's up to him to decide, lass."

The Free Folk knows of the Three-Eyed Raven. They know of the deity who observes everything in history as he watches everything and knows everything. Wargs and Greenseers still fear the deity, knowing that for the entity to live, he must have a human host. I was almost that host, falling into the temptation that he gave in the form of Bloodraven. If it weren't for the Children of the Forest helping me keep a hold of reality, I would have lost myself.

Now a young boy of possibly ten years of age is falling under the deity spell.

Jon knelt to my level and looked at me, "You said you saw a boy falling from a tower. Did he give you a name?"

I shook my head, hoping the incantation I did can make his mind stronger by putting up a barrier. So, if the boy were to fall victim to the Three-Eyed Raven, it would be the Raven falling into the subconscious and not the boy, or at least make them equals. The Children did not want to lose me, so they created a spell. As everyone started packing up, I removed my glove, staring at my left hand to see a cut has formed. Anyway, I secured my glove and got ready for the day.

As we made our way during the journey east, Orell walked beside me.

"You need to be careful with your greensight," he murmured.

"I haven't used greensight in over a year," I whispered.

"Remember, you are a warg," he said.

I nodded. I was born a warg. I may have adapted to become a greenseer, except I was not adequately trained. Not in the way the Wisemen were trained during the Age of Heroes. If I hadn't been tossed aside, I would have been the Three-Eyed Raven. But once separated, I learned of the deception after grieving the loss of my friends and lover. The only thing I got out of it, other than the etching of my skin, is knowledge of being a powerful warg. I know things and tricks when warging, only the abilities consume a lot of energy and will result in seizures.

Orell stopped resting a hand on my shoulder, "I'm here for you."

I stared at his eyes and see that he speaks the truth. Orell is a strong Warg, the strongest in his clan since his familiar was that of an eagle. Although I raised a brow and glanced at Ygritte and Jon. Just a few days ago, he was confessing his attraction towards Ygritte. Orell sighed, shaking his head. Right now, I am not in a mood for a relationship, love right now is just a distraction. All I care about is getting my family, clan, and the Free Folk on the other side of the Wall. But should I consider my options…to have a companion?

Orell noticed I was contemplating on his offer. He knows I won't make the decision now, but the thought that I would consider it was enough for him. So, with a small smile, we started making our way.

**.o0o.**

There was a sense of a storm coming. The clouds were becoming dense, and the winds were picking up. Either we find a place to shield ourselves or carry on through the rain. We continued onward, until spotting a cottage out in the field. We all spread out, though the leading group sticks together of Tormund, Ygritte, Jon, Orell, and I. We all slouch and kneel behind short brick walls, as Orell warged inside his eagle and scouted the area. After several minutes, he returned to his vessel and turned to face us.

"Only one old man and eight good horses," Orell reported.

Tormund looked at Jon, "What's one old man doing with eight horses?"

"He breeds them for the Watch," Jon answered.

"How's he keeps folks from stealing them?" Ygritte asked.

"The Watch protects him," Jon answered.

"Not today they don't," Orell murmured. "He's selling horses; he's got some gold in there."

"And proper steel," Tormund assumed.

"Let's carve him up," Orell suggested.

"We just take the horses and go," Jon insisted. "The old man's no threat."

"I keep telling you," Orell said, glancing at Tormund.

Tormund gave Jon a questionable look.

"He's an old man," Ygritte reasoned. "A spear through the heart's a better way to die than coughing up your last with no one but your horses to hear."

The thought disturbed me. I never took part in raids. The Dire Tribe never raid or pillage. The only time we are ever in battle is because another clan or tribe attacked us. When I fought the Night's Watch, I merely fight men who were coming too close to an innocent village; they attacked me with an intent to kill or attempt to rape me. My family, through the bloodline of my father, holds a code of honor. Is there true honor in killing a defenseless man?

"The Watch might send a few men looking for a horse thief. They'll send a lot more to hunt down murderers," Jon explained.

"I hope so," Tormund said.

"He has a good point. Mance wants us to be discreet; it's too early to expose ourselves," I whispered.

Tormund paused, contemplating the options. However, Tormund was a true warrior at heart with a steadfast vendetta against the Crows who killed his friends and brothers. Especially his sons who were murdered by Crows, leaving him only his two daughters.

"Killing crows in their castle is tough," Tormund said. "Killing them out here in the open, that's what we do." He then raised his voice so the others could hear. "Spread out. Surround the hut and move in."

"Tormund, just get the horses," I implored.

"You stand watch," Tormund ordered.

I took a deep breath and nodded. This was a kindness Tormund was allowing me to stay behind. These were the differences between the Dires and the other Clans. The group climbed over the fence and began running towards the cottage. I observed over the Wall, seeing the men going forward running fast. That was when I saw Jon taking Longclaw and banging it on the large rocks. The clashing sounds caught the horse's attention, which brought the Breeder out of his home. The Breeder panicked quickly, freeing his horses before getting on one to make his escape. Ygritte stopped, drawing her bow. Jon came over as Ygritte fired causing her to miss. Ygritte turned around, glaring at Jon.

_He is still a crow, or he is not a real killer,_ I thought.

The men tried to grab the horses, but they galloped about. Sighing in how pathetic they look, I came over and taking a deep breath, warg all seven horses to behave — stopping in their panic and trust in us. Orell nodded in approval.

"You all, rummage the place to see what you can find, the rest of you, follow me," Tormund ordered as several men, and I got on the horses for the chase.

We had to stop the Horse Breeder from reaching Castle Black or any of the Crow Post's. If word gets to the southerners that wildlings have crossed the Wall, then our plan would be compromised. Orell and I rode together, as Jon and Ygritte got on another horse. Tormund took the lead as we chased after the Breeder. It was a lengthy pursuit, as the rain started to fall and a storm coming in.

It was getting late by the time we reached an abandoned windmill. Orell was having enough of the chase told me to warg into the Breeder's horse. Having no choice, I secured my arms tightly around Orell's waist before warging into the horse. The horse neighs from my intrusion until succumbing toward my command. The rider kicked my side, trying to make me go faster, but I merely stopped allowing the others to circle around us. The Breeder tried to kick me again, except I stood on my hind legs bucking the elderly man off. A sound of an arrow came rushing in; thus, I quickly escape, only to be struck from my ass. A shot of pain struck me as I neighed before turning around, glaring at the shooter, which Ygritte paused, looking at my body and then at the horse. She gave a nervous smile, realizing her mistake. I rolled my eyes as a member came over, taking the reins having control of the horse before I warg back into my body.

I shook my head, feeling the numbing pain in my thigh and glared at Ygritte.

"Sorry," she mouthed.

I rolled my eyes.

Orell and I got off our horse and searched the area. The storm was blowing strong that thunder and lightning strike in every other minute. There was also a new sound that could be heard along with the thunder. It sounded like shouting — a constant repeat of the word Hodor. Orell and I examined the sound, trying to figure out where the shouting was coming from. It sounded like it was coming from the abandoned windmill. Suddenly I felt a strong presence — a familiar energy when I was with the Three-Eyed Raven when he was teaching me how to warg. A moment later, the shouting stopped.

"You sense that?" I asked.

Orell nodded; there was another Warg nearby.

Tormund passed by us.

"I heard shouting up there," Orell reported.

"Thunder," Tormund said, looking up at the windmill.

"I know the difference between shouting and thunder," Orell countered.

"Maybe it's ghosts," Tormund joked with a laugh.

Orell disagreed as he called upon his eagle. Having a feeling it was more than a ghost I called upon Frigg to scout out the abandoned windmill. Meanwhile, Tormund walked over to the Breeder, who was on the ground. The older man drew a dagger aiming it at Tormund. The giant man knelt down to the older man's level.

"That won't help you, grandpa," Tormund said, offering a hand to take the weapon.

The older man sighed in defeat, handing his dagger over to Tormund. Tormund examined it and tossed the small blade aside.

"Where you riding?" Tormund asked.

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" the Breeder said.

"No, it doesn't matter now," Tormund agreed.

Orell came over, "Cut his throat or he'll tell the crows we're here."

Tormund got up, drawing his blade, "You understand."

The Breeder lifted his hand, "Let me stand at least. Let me go with a bit of dignity."

Tormund accepting that request, helped the man stand up onto his feet. The older man groans, still injured from his fall.

"Make the crow kill him," Orell said.

Jon was surprised, glaring at Orell.

Orell came over, glaring right back at Jon," You're one of us now. Prove it."

All eyes were on Jon. It was definitely time for Jon to prove himself if he was a wildling or a crow. Jon sighed as he drew Longclaw. He aimed his sword at the Breeder's neck. The older man hesitated.

"She looks sharp," the man said.

Jon nodded.

The man closed his eyes, giving his prayer for the gods. Jon stood there, allowing the man to finish the prayer. However, the man was still muttering those sacred words. I thought the North only had people who worship the Old Gods. Not worship those of the Seven. Is this man worshipping all Seven gods?

"Do it," Ygritte told him as she gave him a warning look. "Do it."

Jon was still hesitant.

"I told you. He's still one of them," Orell said.

Jon put both hands on the sword.

"Go on, boy," Tormund encouraged. "Go on!"

Jon growled, raising his sword only to stop in mid-swing. Suddenly, Ygritte fired an arrow directly into the Breeder's heart killing him. Instantly everyone was on guard, drawing their weapons as I drew Dark Sister. Jon went on the defensive as Ygritte locked in another arrow. I gave Ygritte a pleading look not to do this.

"He's a crow," Orell said. "He'll always be a crow. And here's his crow wife guarding him. He'll stab us in the back first chance he gets."

Tormund paused since he was the leader of our group. After a moment, he gave the command, "Kill him."

Ygritte was about to fire an arrow, when Jon shouted elbowing her, practically knocking her to the ground. Orell rushes in to attack Jon while Tormund went over to Ygritte, pinning her down. The men went after Jon, only one by one they were cut down. The Valyrian steel was slicing through their furs and damaging their vital organs. Meanwhile, Tormund got hold of Ygritte.

"He's one of them," he tried to talk reason into her.

"No!" Ygritte screamed.

"Do you hear me?"

Ygritte suddenly bit him. Not wanting to lose my friend, I rushed in, immobilizing her. She scrambled, trying to punch and kick me but I dodged each blow and tackled her in the ground. I secured my arms around her and forced my weight onto her legs. Tormund rushed in, helping me keeping Ygritte down.

"You're not gonna die for one of them," Tormund yelled.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, two direwolves appeared out of nowhere, attacking two of our men. In the midst of the creatures interference, Orell charged at Jon. He left himself open, Jon took his sword, and stabbed Orell straight through the chest. Jon said something to Orell; at the same moment, Orell's eyes turned white, warging into his eagle to save his spirit. Jon yanked his sword out, only to be attacked by an eagle. Tormund had a good hold of Ygritte that I got up and drew my sword, attacking him. The eagle moved out of the way, as I went for the strike. Jon instantly turned to the side, avoiding the blow and grabbed Longclaw. I swung again, which he lifted his back up blocking it. The moment our blades clash, sparks flew. Never has Dark Sister created sparks when striking other blades. Ignoring the prospect, I muster all of my strength to keep Jon down. He has grown, when he moved his leg trying to kick me. I pulled back, striking him again.

Just in mid-strike, a grey direwolf tackled me down into the mud. I cried out from the unexpected weight, shoving my left arm into its neck before warging into the beast. My eyes turned white; however, I did not see through the eyes of the wolf; instead, I stared into the brown eyes of the little boy from my dreams. I scowled, forcing my abilities on him in which disconnected the boys warging into the direwolf and had the beast off me into submission.

When I got up, I looked around, seeing that Jon had escaped. Ygritte has shoved Tormund off her, chasing after Jon, only to stop seeing her lover abandoning her. I turned to the sky, giving the command to Frigg to follow him. Frigg complied, though kept to the sky, allowing her white feathers mask with the storm. Sighing, I came over to Orell's body. I knelt down and closed his human eyes. The eagle swooped down and landed on my shoulder. I glanced at Orell as he ruffled his feathers.

A warg can escape death if their human vessel is destroyed or beyond survival. However, this second life inside the animal is short lived. The longer a warg stays inside the animal, the less they have of their human memory, and over time, they will become more beast than human.

Tormund came over looking around, seeing that it was only Ygritte, himself, and I who remained. He glanced at the two Direwolves who were still under my control.

"Think they be of use?" Tormund asked.

I stared at them; one was grey with sprouts of sandy fur while the other had dark fur. When I warg into the grey fur one, I could tell he was already bonded. I've used enough energy to maintain the horses and stopping these two from killing the rest of us.

"No, they're too wild," I said. "Let them cause hell for the farmers."

Tormund gave a scuff of a laugh and nodded. Nothing else said, I bobbed my head, and the direwolves rushed out. Although, I took a glance at the windmill. The warg was in there. He was not alone. Although he was nothing more than a child, I will have a word with him when it is dark.

"You were right all along," Tormund said to Orell.

Orell flapped his wings, giving a screech at Tormund.

"What did he say?" Tormund asked.

"Just because I'm a warg, doesn't mean I speak the language of the animals," I muttered. "Knowing Orell, he's probably said, 'I told you so. Can't trust a crow."'

"Aye," Tormund grumbled.

Orell nodded by nipping my ear.

I sighed and looked at Ygritte.

She was still standing there staring out where Jon took off too. I took a deep breath and walked over to her. Once I was beside her, I did not touch her knowing she did not want to be touched. Her lover betrayed her. The one thing you don't want to do is betray Ygritte. Anyone who dares cross her will receive an arrow in return, and the amount you hurt her is the number of arrows in you. Her previous lovers learned that the hard way.

"Ygritte," I started.

"You were right," she whispered.

"Go," I told her.

She looked at me, surprised.

"Tormund and I will take care of the bodies, you deal with him," I said. "He's your responsibility."

Ygritte opened her mouth to speak.

"Frigg will guide you," I said.

Ygritte nodded. Tormund, seeing how hurt Ygritte was and knew Jon was a dead man, allowed her to go and kill the Crow. She took a horse and left. Meanwhile, Tormund and I piled our fallen comrades onto the horses and made our way back to the Breeders cottage. We met up with the others, and as the storm was proceeding, we decided to spend the night.

However, there was a certain Warg I need to see…

**.o0o.**

_The Windmill_

Brandon Stark was still comprehending what just happened today. This morning he had a strange dream of being in the godswood back in Winterfell where the Raven with three eyes stood while a woman faced him. There was a wild beauty about her, let alone some resemblance to someone he can't quite put his finger on. Her hair was pulled back yet wild with white paint in it, grey eyes surrounded by dark charcoal, and face with tripe blue paint on her right side and a crescent on her left eye. He watched the woman glare at the abnormal Raven, telling the blackbird to leave him be, before coming over to him and telling him not to trust the bird. Before cutting his hand and speaking another language. What surprised him the most was the tattoo on her neck.

Why was she wearing House Stark sigil on her neck?

At first, Bran thought the woman was a Stark ancestor. Many Starks had dark hair and grey eyes. Although, in the past few generations, House Stark has been inheriting more of the mother than the father. Since Rickon, Sansa, and Robb resembled more of their mother, while he and Arya have more of their father, except Bran inherited his grandmother's brown eyes. Arya was the only one who appeared to be more Stark than anyone in the family. Well, there was uncle Benjen, who had dark hair and grey eyes.

When the Raven woke him up, Bran asked Osha and Jojen about the dream. When he described the women, Osha tensed.

"You must be careful with a Dire," Osha said.

"A Dire?" Meera asked.

"Dires are one of the oldest clans, since the beginning. Wolf's blood flows through their veins."

"The raven called her by her name, Imogen," Bran added.

Osha tensed once more, "We better hope not to cross her."

"Why?" Rickon asked.

"Imogen is a powerful Warg," Osha explained. "She was taken as a girl and came out as a strong woman. She can control more animals and see things, just like you."

"Have you met her?" Bran asked.

Osha shook her head, "And I don't want to."

Bran looked at his hand, seeing the pink mark as if he was scratched and stared at Jojen, "What does she mean by, don't trust the raven?"

"I do not know," Jojen answered.

The young cripple started second-guessing himself if he should see the Three-Eyed Raven. Something did not feel right. Maybe he should focus on getting back to Castle Black, ensuring Rickon is safe and talk with Jon. Then he remembers Jon was with the wildlings. Not sure if he has defected or was being held hostage. Let alone Uncle Benjen was missing, most likely dead. So, they continued onward until coming by an abandoned windmill, and use it as shelter through the storm.

That was when the confrontation happened outside. Hodor was already afraid of thunder and lightning, now add the Wildlings attacking an elderly man with Jon there. Something happens, with Hodor being terrified, that he warged inside him. He was controlling Hodor to calm down. It was an out of body experience, seeing through Hodor's eyes before returning back in his own body. Entirely different than his dreams controlling summer. Then he did the same with Summer and Shaggydog to help Jon against the wildlings. He saw a woman attacking Jon and had Summer pounced on her, ready to kill until the woman did the same and warged inside the black direwolf. He realized it was Imogen from the dream, except she saw him and broke his control on the wolves.

Bran was terrified that the wildling woman would come inside the windmill right away. Instead, she focused on collecting the dead and took off with the Wildling with the red hair, going west, while the second woman whose hair was red went after Jon. So much energy was taken from him, he couldn't do anymore and fell unconscious. All he knew was that Imogen was real.

Osha had lit a candle in the darkness.

"Is that safe?" Meera asked.

"They're long gone," Osha assured, setting a candle beside Bran.

Rickon hopped down from the window and sat in front of his brother. Bran turned his attention to Jojen, who was next to his sister.

"You were right," Bran said. "I can get inside Summer's mind whenever I want."

"Of course, you can," Jojen said. "North of the Wall there are wildings who can control all sorts of animals. Just like that woman. But you did a lot more than that. You got inside Hodor's mind."

As they glance at the unconscious man.

"I can't do that north of the Wall," Bran doubted.

Osha bit her hand, shaking her head.

"No one can do that . . .anywhere," Jojen added.

Osha disagreed. She knew Wargs could go inside people's minds. However, it was forbidden. A taboo that the Free Folk made. There were two laws a warg can never do. They can never control another human being or lay with a beast. Taking away someone's freedom makes you no better than a southerner. The only reason Osha was not chastising Bran from breaking that sacred law, is because they were in grave danger. Hodor was about to blow their cover…but the next time it happens, she will lecture Bran about the laws of the wargs.

Bran then got excited and turned to Rickon, "When I was looking through Summer's eyes, I saw Jon."

"Where?" Rickon asked.

"He was with the wildings. They tried to kill him, but he got away." Bran answered.

"He'll be heading back to Castle Black, then," Osha concluded. "That's where we should go."

"For all we know, Castel Black's already under attack," Bran countered. "If this many wildings got through—"

"I already told you." Osha interrupted. "I'm not going north of the Wall."

"Everything Jojen told me is true," Bran said. "You saw what I did to Hodor. I have to find the Three-Eyed Raven."

Osha leaned over, taking Bran's hand, "Listen to me, little lord."

"Don't worry. I'm not asking you to come with me," Bran murmured. "It won't be safe for Rickon."

"Me? I'm coming with you," Rickon protested.

"No," Bran disagreed. "You and Osha and Shaggydog head for the Last Hearth. The Umbers are our bannermen. They'll protect you."

"I'm coming with you," Rickon implored. "I'm your brother. I have to protect you."

Bran gave a small smile, "Right now, I have to protect you."

Rickon's eyes water and his lip quivers, ready to cry.

"Robb's at war, and I'm going beyond the Wall. If something happens to us, you're the heir to Winterfell," Bran explained.

Rickon shook his head.

Bran turned his attention to Osha, "Would you know how to find the Last Hearth?"

"You southerners build your big castles and never move. You're easy to find," Osha replied as she gathered their things.

Rickon stood up, feeling offended, "We're not southerners." Then he looked at Bran, "And I don't want to leave you."

"Shh, shh," Osha said as she stood up, wrapping an arm around the little pup. "Come here, little soldier. You and me, we're gonna have some adventures."

"You don't have to do any of this," Bran said, making it an option and not an order since Osha has been their prisoner.

"Your family took me in and was good to me when they had no cause to be," Osha replied, comforting Rickon. "Shh. We'll be fine, you and me. The Umbers are great warriors. Even I heard about them growing up. They'll teach you how to swing a sword."

"I know how to swing a sword," Rickon countered.

Osha kissed the top of his head, before helping the youngest lord up.

Bran was surprised, "You're leaving now? It's the middle of the night."

"I learned to walk in darkness," Osha said, grabbing their things. "Say your good-byes, little man."

Rickon rushed over, hugging his brother. Bran hugged him back. Meera and Jojen watched, giving them privacy until Osha came over to them.

"Keep this one safe," Osha said. "He means the world to me."

Osha has made the two youngest Stark boys her own children. She was strong, but inside she worried about Bran's safety beyond the Wall. She learned about encounters with wights from her late husband. Meera merely nodded, as did Jojen. With nothing else to say, they left the windmill. The storm has passed, and the moon appeared between the clouds. Shaggydog took the lead, leading towards the east where the Last Hearth is located. Little did they know of a warg hiding amongst the ruins with an eagle next to her.

Imogen petted Orell's head soothing the once human warg. Orell was staying by her side. Aiding his friend the best he could and allowing her to know how long she would have if she were to save her spirit before losing her humanity in an animal. They waited long enough, ensuring Osha and Rickon were gone, before going inside.

At first, the small group of adolescents thought Osha forgot something; however, they were met with a wildling and an eagle. Meera tried to reach for her bow, except the eagle lunged forward and tackled her. Hodor, still being recovering from Bran invasion of mind, still remained unconscious.

"If I were you, I would sit down and listen," Imogen said.

Meera kept a protective arm in front of Jojen and glared at her. Imogen ignored the glare and came over to Bran, sitting in front of him.

"We got a lot to talk about," Imogen said.

"You're a wildling," Bran said.

"Aye, and a daughter of the First Men and a warg, just like you, boy," Imogen said.

"Why are you here?" Meera demanded. "Are you here to kill us?"

Imogen shook her head, "I don't kill children. Now sit down and shut up."

Orell shrieked, which that made the two Reed siblings sit down.

Bran stared at Imogen, looking exactly the same from his dream, only she was dressed in furs. Let alone her neck being covered up and no blue paint on her face.

"Why are you this far north, boy?" Imogen asked. "Shouldn't you be in Winterfell or south from here?"

Bran did not respond. Imogen sighed, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Look, seeing the Three-Eyed Raven in your dreams is never good," she explained. "I was around your age, maybe younger when I saw him."

"What is he?" Bran asked.

"He is a deity since the Old Gods. The last of the greenseers, once a mortal living amongst the Children of the Forest beyond the Wall. No one knows his real name. I doubt he even remembers it after many years of claiming a new host."

"A new host?" Bran asked.

Imogen nodded, "He cannot live forever unless he acquires a host. He can give the vessel longevity, but immortality is not possible. Every hundred years, he trains a new pupil to take his place."

"And how do you know all this?" Jojen asked.

Imogen looked at him, "Because I was going to be the next Three-Eyed Raven."

Their eyes widen.

"What has the Three-Eyed Raven promised you?" Imogen asked.

"I don't know," Bran said. "He helped me wake from my coma."

Imogen sighed as she took his hand, the one she cut in his dream, "I cannot stop you. The choice is yours. However, I can help you to save your mind before it falls into a deep slumber."

"What do you mean?" Meera asked.

Imogen paused, trying to figure out a way to explain it, "When you become the Three-Eyed Raven, you are no longer yourself. He becomes you and you become a dream. I can help your friend gain control so he doesn't fall into an eternal slumber. Might as well call it death, until a new host comes in."

Bran was surprised. If Osha were here, she would demand they head South now.

"If I were you, I would go home, head south, and warn everyone of the Others," Imogen advised. "The Long Night is coming again."

"The Long Night?" Meera asked.

"An eternal winter of darkness. It lasted for a generation, as three generations fought against the Others. If you dare go beyond the Wall, no one can protect you against the Free Folk who hold a strong vendetta, or the wights and White Walkers. The worse would be encountering the Night King."

Imogen's words sink in as they comprehend the dangers while the Wildling came over to Bran, pulling out a dirk.

"If you dare go North and decide to seek the Three-Eyed Raven, allow me to help you to secure your mind," Imogen said.

Bran paused, thinking out it before he gave the nod.

Imogen took his left hand and cut both of their hands, making a rune from the old children's language. Bran winced slightly, seeing a symbol he did not see before. Imogen did the same on her own before entwining their fingers and spoke in an ancient language while staring into each other's eyes. Bran could feel a weight in his head. Almost like a headache. By the time the incantation was over, the headache had vanished.

"What did you do?" Meera asked, still cautious.

"A protection charm, so when the day does come . . .he will still be here and not the Three-Eyed Raven," Imogen said as she stood. "The choice is yours, boy. Choose wisely."

Imogen lowered her arm so Orell could climb on top of her shoulder.

"Imogen," Bran called out. "Why are you helping me?"

Imogen stopped at the top of the stares, before turning around to look at him. Her eyes showed the pain she went through.

"Because I don't want others to be taken advantage from him ever again," Imogen said before leaving.

The three adolescents watch her departed.

Bran questioning if he should genuinely see the Three-Eyed Raven.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	9. Chapter 8: Three Arrows

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 8: Three Arrows**

Jon got a day's lead from the Wildlings. He felt terrible for abandoning Ygritte after all she has done him. Yet, Jon thought it was best to leave her, so Tormund and the others won't hurt her. The last thing he wants is Ygritte to be considered a traitor amongst her own kind. He hopes his running away will not alter the Wildlings plans. All he needs to do is get to Castle Black and warn the others and to prepare for a counterattack.

However, there was something off as Jon examined Longclaw. When the Valyrian sword collided against Dark Sister both blades made sparks. The only time he saw blades making sparks like that was at a blacksmith forging weapons. Then again, Valyrian steel is still a mystery to this day. No one knows how Valyrian steel is forged, as the knowledge vanished during the Doom of Valyrian. Barely a handful of blacksmiths around the world knows how to reforge Valyrian steel. Let alone the fact that it takes a lot of patience when sharpening the blade. Jon thought about his father, Ned Stark, sitting in the godswood to sharpen Ice. Always careful to never cut himself.

Other than the Valyrian steel, he also noticed Imogen didn't warg his horse or even the eagle chasing after him. So, he rode hard. Seeing how Imogen fights, if she is still alive from those wolves, she will be challenging to defeat. She fought like someone who lived in a Keep, not in the North. She was trained with a sword, but who would teach a wildling?

Also, where did those wolves come from? They were bigger than normal wolves…direwolves. A part of him would have guessed that they were Summer and Shaggydog, since Lady, Nymeria, and Greywind were far south. Did those two leave Winterfell to hunt? If they did, why are they this far North away from Bran and Rickon? Something was not right, and he needs to get to Castle Black to figure out what is going on. If not, tell them about Mance Rayders plan.

Sighing, Jon let the horse rest before walking over to a small pond to get some water and wash the blood off him. He cupped his hands, drinking as much as he could before refilling his waterskin. Afterward, he started washing the blood off. As he did this, he tried to calculate how long of a journey he had. He told the wildings that they were a week from Castle Black, when, in truth, he has been leading them away from the trails and roads, buying them some time. So, he guessed he had probably three days if he rides at a hard pace.

The wound stings causing him to wince. That was when he heard a sharp sound of pulling, which is the sound of an arrow being pulled. The horse neighed, sensing an intruder. Jon was having two thoughts in who is pulling a string, a Northerner Hunter mistaking him as a wildling or . . . Ygritte. A part of him genuinely wishes for the former.

Jon turned around, seeing Ygritte standing there with her bow raised an arrow knocked, aiming at him. She held a neutral face, yet her vibrant blue eyes were livid. He wonders how she found him, until spotting Frigg perched in a branch above her by a lone tree. The snowy owl eyes were yellowed, indicating the bird was not warged. Yet the intelligent creature's eyes narrowed at him with the same hate as the Spearwife.

Cautiously, Jon stood up.

He won't lie, he cares for Ygritte. In fact, he was falling in love with her. She was his first, and she showed him there is more to life than honor. However, he made a sacred vow as a brother of the Night's Watch. So, he, too, was conflicted about what he wanted.

"Ygritte, you know I didn't have a choice," Jon said.

Ygritte merely stared at him.

"You always knew who I was, what I am," he implored. "I have to go home now."

She falters for a second, yet her bow arm remains aimed and ready.

"I know you won't hurt me," he said.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow," Ygritte whispered.

Jon scoffed with a smile, staring into the grey sky then back to her, "I do know some things. I know I love you."

Ygritte sobbed, correcting her form.

"I know you love me," he continued. "But I have to go home now."

Her lips quiver as she stared at the only man who treated her like a woman, and at the same time, warrior. And yet, he betrayed her. She can't let him leave and ruin the plan. The Free Folk need to get South of the Wall before the Others take them. She doesn't want her tribe and all the other tribes to become a Wight. So, does she sacrifice her happiness for the good of her people or let him live. Tormund and Imogen are expecting her to kill him. Her best friend knew the secret, giving Ygritte a chance to convert Jon to their way of life. Now Jon made his choice. Even if he did love her, he would always be a Crow. And a Crow takes.

Jon, believing she won't shoot, turned around and walked back to his horse. Only it was his mistake, as Ygritte fired, shooting an arrow into his back. The shock of pain ran through his spine, knocking him down that he cried out. Ygritte quickly knocked another arrow. Knowing it will take two shots, Jon forced himself up and on the horse. Sadly, Ygritte shot him in the thigh, which he groans in pain. Not having a second to waste, he orders the horse to run.

Ygritte aimed another arrow, watching him flee. She wanted him dead, and she wanted him to live. So, she let go of the string, allowing the Old Gods to decide. As she witnesses, the arrow impacts into him from the back, along with his cry of pain. She cried, standing there, watching him getting away. She put three arrows into him. Three arrows in places that could kill him if not adequately treated. Only the gods can decide on her behalf.

Frigg gave a hoot, jumping up and flying onto her shoulder. The smart bird nuzzled her head, comforting the spearwife. Ygritte sobbed, petting Frigg for comfort.

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

I sighed after we burned our fallen brothers and buried the old man a few days ago. Tormund was not pleased, but I keep reminding him that the Breeder accepted death. It's the courteous thing we could do for him. Tormund laughed in my face, yet conceded as he got some men to form a grave.

"You Dires and your honor for the dead," Tormund said. "I'll give Grandpa credit."

I sighed, shaking my head.

"You forget, Dires are one of the oldest tribes since the Age of Heroes." I reminded.

Tormund barked a laugh smacking me hard on the back before leaving. I sighed, shaking my head before looking at Orell on the wagon. I walked over to him and petted the top of the eagle's head. Orell leaned into my touch, enjoying the comfort. It has been a few days since Jon's betrayal. So far, Orell has been himself, or at least some of his personality was still showing.

I remember the conversation we had before he was killed — the open invitation of a relationship after Ygritte's rejection. I'll give him credit that he communicates it with me, instead of trying to steal me. Despite being second best, Orell understands the strains of being a warg and understands the pain we go through for our kind. The blood of the First Men lingers in our veins, giving us the abilities. Maybe, after some time, I would have opened up to Orell. But that chance is now gone. Any day now, Orell will lose his humanity and become a wild eagle.

Hopefully, Ygritte can deal with Jon Snow. I had the opportunity to kill him if it weren't for the damn direwolves. Bran Stark is strong; there are not many strong wargs. One out of thirty wargs can control two animals. And Wargs are not a large population, except the majority of the Dire Tribe. Still, he needs to be careful in the decision he is about to make with the Three-Eyed Raven. For if Bran completes the trials…he will no longer be Bran, but the Three-Eyed Raven's vessel. I pray to the old gods the rune I gave him will protect him if it dares come to that.

One way to piss off the deity.

Frigg suddenly appeared landing next to Orell.

I turned around, seeing Ygritte returning on her horse. She got off and stood there. Tormund saw her, about to walk over, but I stopped him, gesturing him not to approach. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to Ygritte to see what was wrong. She looked up at me, expressing her pain silently in her eyes. I did not need to ask as she did something she rarely did, and that was hugging me. She held on tight. I was startled before wrapping my arms around her. No words need to be said.

After several moments Tormund came over.

"Is he dead?" Tormund asked.

"I put three arrows in him," Ygritte answered.

"So, he's dead," Tormund repeated.

Ygritte only nodded, not looking at him.

However, knowing Ygritte, she would look Tormund in the eye when telling the truth, especially a kill. Something told me, there is a chance that Jon Snow was still alive. It only takes one arrow to kill someone. Three arrows mean pain and torture. If Jon doesn't die from blood loss, then he is most likely still alive.

**.o0o.**

_Castle Black_

A brother of the Night's Watch notices a rider approaching the front gate. He couldn't tell who it was, only that the horse was exhausted and the rider…had three arrows in him. He called out for the rider to stop, to halt, yet he did not respond. That is, until seeing the horse stop and the rider falling off, snapping the arrows deeper into him. Therefore, the guard rushed down, ordering his brothers to open the gate.

Three men rushed out, as one collected the horse while the other two grabbed the injured rider in a wilding fur clothes. One realized the rider was none other than Jon Snow, shouting out to get the Maester. They each grabbed one of Jon's arm before dragging him inside for safety.

Sam and Pyp heard Jon had returned, rushing outside to see the two men set Jon on the ground. Jon groaned; his body felt numb except for the areas where the arrows struck. The taste of blood lingers in his mouth. At first, he saw the grey sky until Sam and Pyp came into view hovering over him.

"Jon. Jon!" Sam called out. "Jon, it's us."

"I don't think he can see us," Pyp suggested.

Jon recognizing his voice, turned his head to stare at his friend and mumbled, "Pyp?"

This made Pyp and Sam smile.

"Sam?" Jon whispered.

"Hush, now. You're home," Sam assured. "Carry him inside. Gently."

Four men gathered around, grabbing each of his limbs and carried him inside. There was more to say; he needed to tell the council about Mance Rayder and the Wildlings. He needs to warn them about those who have already climbed over the Wall. In the end, Jon's body was exhausted that he blacked out before he could utter another word.

* * *

**I know this is a short chapter.**

**Thus ends Season 3**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review.**

**It's awesome to get some critics and suggestions for the story.**


	10. Chapter 9: Disagreements

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Welcome to season 4**_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Disagreements**

_Ygritte's POV_

Ygritte sat across from Imogen, who was warging at the moment with Frigg and Orell. The Fiery Spearwife, stared at Imogen, seeing her sitting crossed legged, almost in her general direction eyes being white. Ygritte sometimes wonders what it is like to be a warg. There were times she would get jealous of Wargs, especially those bonded with birds. Yet she knows better since Wargs have laws they have to obey and the consequences. There are two sacred laws the Free Folk of Wargs must abide by. The second is to never mate with an animal in their familiar. But the one and most important rule are to never Warg inside a human. One can never take another humans freedom.

Thinking about the Wargs was one of her distractions. Ygritte tried hard to not think about Jon Snow. She put three arrows in him, enough to kill someone. However, a part of her knew he was still alive. She just had this feeling. That specific feeling makes her angrier; thus, she distracted herself in making more arrows.

It has been a few weeks since Jon abandoned her.

Her bitterness noted by her comrades. The only people who dares approach her was Tormund and Imogen. Ygritte hardly talked to Tormund and accepted Imogen's presence. They barely speak, but the presence alone was comforting. She was thankful to have Imogen. The Warg Maiden was giving her a chance with Jon despite knowing the truth. Converting Jon to their way of life was dangerous, even though it failed. Now she will focus on the plan.

If the legends are true about the Wall, then she and the Free Folk need to go south. The Wall was their only way to escape the White Walkers. Already being south, she could feel the atmosphere much lighter. Not to much tension. Well, if you count the attack on the Crows. They've been waiting to get Mance Rayder's orders on the attack for Castle Black.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention as she trimmed the feathers of her arrows. She glances up, seeing it was Tormund. Rolling her eyes, she went back to her arrows.

"You plan on killing all the crows yourself?" Tormund asked.

"Do you plan on sitting here, scratching your balls till winter?" Ygritte countered.

"We wait for Mance's orders," Tormund reminded.

"You sent a man over the Wall at the Full moon," Ygritte said. "If he's not back yet, he's not coming back."

"And what is it you want?" Tormund asked. "March on Castle Black with just this lot? Your pretty crow said 1,000 men are nesting there."

"Yeah, well, he's a liar," She snapped.

"He is?" Tormund noted. "Shouldn't it be 'he was'?"

Ygritte kept a neutral face.

"You said you put three arrows in him," Tormund reminded.

"I did," She hissed.

"I've seen you slip a shaft through a rabbit's eye at two-hundred yards. If that boy's still walking, it's 'cause you let him go." He warned her.

Just then, Imogen's eyes return to grey, followed by a gasp as her soul back to her vessel. All eyes were on her as she took a deep breath.

"What did you see?" Tormund asked her.

"We got company," Imogen answered.

"Who?" Tormund asked.

"Thenns on the south side," Imogen answered.

Everyone says all the Free-Folk hate the Cave dwellers, being so isolated from everyone else. But if you think about it, the clan on the surface hated the most were the Thenns. The biggest rivalry being between the Dires and the Thenns. The reason being the specifics in moral code and combat. However, the main general for the Free-Folk towards the Thenns was for their self-scarification and cannibalism. Spearwives fight hard not to be taken by Thenns, for no one wants to be their wife.

The three got up and went towards the direction where the Thenns were coming. Tormund stood in front of the girls, knowing the Thenns will take interest in them. A large group of bald men entered, dried blood stains covered their fur coats. Their faces pale to the point of grey while scars marred their skin as if they were painted. Ygritte took a glance at Imogen, seeing the contrast of the white paint in her dark hair and the black charcoal around her eyes.

"Thenns," Tormund muttered. "I fucking hate Thenns."

Imogen nodded in agreement.

The leader of the group was none other than Styr, Magnar of the Thenn. The Chieftain. Ygritte could sense the tension as Styr glanced at Imogen. Who was a Magnar daughter? If all were born South of the Wall, then Styr is a Lord, since Magnar in Old Tongue means Lord.

"Mance sent you?" Tormund asked, breaking the tension.

Styr grunted. The Man who can speak both Common Tongue and the Old Tongue.

"How did you find us?" Tormund asked.

Styr gestured to his Warg.

"You came from the south, not the North," Tormund noted.

"Took a detour," Styr finally spoke. "Got some supper from a village down that way. Why does the meat down here taste so much better than it does on our side of the Wall?"

"Help yourself," Tormund gestured to the rabbit that was being cooked.

Styr's chuckled from this, "Maybe everything's just better fed down here. Fat and lazy. Easier for us, hmm?"

The Thenn moved around, petting Tormund on the shoulder to join his men. Ygritte held her disgust, as she turned around to see the real savages removed their game off the fire skewer, tossing the rabbits aside to replace with their own meat.

"You didn't see us coming?" Styr noted. "Lost your warg?"

"Orell is dead, but I am here," Imogen replied sternly.

Styr scoffed, "And the baby crow you had with you, lost him too?"

Tormund stopped Styr glaring at him, "I'll answer to Mance, I won't answer to you."

"She yours?" Styr asked, nodding his head to Ygritte.

"I'm not anybody's," Ygritte replied.

Styr walked over to her, except Ygritte, who still had her bow knocked and ready, aimed it at the Magner face. The Thenns drew their short blades while the Free-Folk drew theirs. Styr glanced at the arrowhead, before looking at Ygritte, who shows no sign of hesitation. Tormund gave Ygritte a cautious look until Styr scoffed.

"Too scrawny," the Magnar murmured. "Not like those crows at Castle Black. Think of them stuck in their larders stuffing their faces with ham and blood sausage, and stew, getting nice and fat and marbled."

He stepped away from Tormund as he marveled about the Night Watch's diet. Meanwhile, Tormund gestured Ygritte to lower her bow. She complied but ever so slowly.

"I know we've had our differences, Tormund," Styr murmured, walking over to the campfire. "but just one time before you die, you really should try some crow."

There on a skewer was an arm being roasted on an open fire.

Imogen clenched her hands. Ygritte can sense the same disgust as were many others. Even if they hate the Crows, they won't dare eat their flesh of their fallen enemies. The only thing they will do is take their weapons and supplies. Tormund gave the girls a silent warning to stick together.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon finally recovered from his injuries thanks to Maester Aemon and Sam. His body was still sore, but he preferred to have a sore body rather than a dead one. He could only thank the gods for Ygritte missing. As he was woken up, Sam came in tending his wounds along with giving him the news. It broke Jon's heart to learn his brother Rob was dead, along with his wife Talisa, and Lady Catelyn. Even when Lady Catelyn treated him poorly, he knew no woman should be murdered. Jon's heart sinks even more when told of what happened in Winterfell, how Theon betrayed the Starks, killing Rodrick and Maester Luwin. The worse being Bran and Rickon. Both slaughtered by the Ironborn, their bodies burned and hanged at the castle gate. Let alone news that Jeor Mormont was dead. The man who was like a second father to him.

It took days for him to grasp the news that his family was dead. Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Bran, and Rickon. Arya's whereabouts are still unknown while Sansa…Sansa was forced to wed Tyrion Lannister. Jon's home was gone. His original family was dead or taken. The Night's Watch was his family now, yet the family he was raised in by blood will always be in his heart. Therefore, his heartache.

As he dressed, he told Sam about Robb.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the courtyard at Winterfell," Jon murmured as he got dressed. "He said, 'Next time I see you, you'll be all in black.' I was jealous of Robb my whole life."

A shot of pain from his backache. He hissed and winced as if being stabbed.

"The way my father looked at him, I wanted that. He was better than me at everything – fighting and hunting and riding and girls. Gods, the girls loved him. I wanted to hate him, but I never could."

"Sometimes I want to hate you," Sam whispered.

Jon turned around surprised by this. Since Sam was born from a noble family, he was not a bastard. He has a name. Then Jon remembered Sam's backstory, in how Lord Randyll Tarly treated his eldest. It brought back memories with Tyrion, how all dwarves are bastards in their fathers' eyes. The same with sons who don't meet their father's radical high expectations.

"Well, you're better than me at everything," Sam continued. "Except reading."

Jon snorted, knowing that is true. Despite having a proper education of reading and writing, Jon barely has the patience. He can't remember the last time he read a book from cover to cover and enjoyed it.

"They' re—they're ready for you," Sam added nervously.

Jon hesitated as he reaches over to grab his armor vest; meanwhile, Sam handed him Longclaw.

"He's wanted to hang me for a while. Now's his chance," Jon muttered.

"No one's going to hang you," Sam assured. "You've done nothing wrong."

"I've done plenty wrong," Jon murmured.

Alliser Thorne despises Jon with a passion. Either because he was a bastard or because he was the son of Ned Stark. Even to this day, some men had supported the Targaryens in the Wall, who hold a vendetta against the children of King Robert's supporters. With Jeor Mormont dead, Alliser was acting Lord Commander until the voting begins, once the Council in all three active castles is assembled. Things are only worse, with the new addition to the Castle, which no one is pleased about. Other than Maester Aemon, the other positions in Castle Black Council had to be earned. So, when Jon heard about a new council member being Lord Janos Slynt, once Commander of the City Watch in King's Landing will be in the panel, it burned him intensely. As rumor has it, Janos had a part in Ned Stark's arrest.

Adding salt to the wound, what Jon will tell the Council will displease them. He broke vows and killed a brother of the Night's Watch in order to survive.

Building up his courage, Jon made his way to the Shieldhall, where the Council waited. Inside, along with the lone table, sat the Council. Center was Alliser, with Maester Aemon on his left with First Steward Bowen Marsh while on his right was Lord Janos and First Builder Othell Yarwyck. Jon knew Maester Aemon is a fair man, along with Bowen. Knowing Jon since he became a steward. But Yarwyck is a mystery since Yarwyck has been focused on repairing the defenses instead of political issues.

Maester Aemon asked Jon to tell his side of the story in what happened over the Wall and high he got to the South without using the Tunnel. Jon took a deep breath, and told them everything, from the moment he travels with Qhorin Halfhand, the wildings, Mance, everything except his romantic affairs. Once he was done, it was Alliser who spoke.

"So, you admit you murdered Qhorin Halfhand?" Alliser accused.

"I didn't murder him," Jon defended.

"No? You put your sword through a brother of the Night's Watch. What do you call that?" Alliser asked.

"He wanted me to kill him," Jon explained again.

Janos scoffed, "A bastard son of a traitor. What would you expect?"

"The Halfhand believed our only chance to stop Mance was to get a man inside his army."

"Don't talk about the Halfhand as if you knew him. He was my brother," Alliser warned.

"Then you'd know he'd do anything to defend the Wall," Jon countered. "The Free Folk would have boiled him alive, but letting me kill him . . . "

"The Free Folk?" Janos interrupted. "Listen to him. He even talks like a wilding now."

Jon growled as he bellowed, "Aye, I talk like a wilding. I ate with the wildings. I climbed the Wall with the wildings. I –" he stopped himself for a second, then sighed. "I laid with a wildling girl.

Breaking his vow of celibacy will be punished.

Maester Aemon took a deep breath.

Janos adjusted himself, looking at Alliser for a second, then back to Jon, "You admit to breaking your vows, then?"

"I do," Jon confessed.

"The law is the law. The boy must die," Janos said.

"If we beheaded every ranger who lay with a girl, the Wall would be manned by headless men," Maester Aemon announced, breaking his silence.

"There's a difference between sneaking off to the Mole's Town brothel and sleeping with the enemy." Alliser reminded.

"While we sit here debating which rules I broke, Mance Rayder marchers on the Wall with an army of one hundred thousand." Jon implored.

"Impossible," Alliser said. "You can't get fifty wildlings together before they start killing each other."

"One hundred thousand," Jon explained yet again. "He's united the Thenns, the Hornfoots, the ice-river clans. The Dires and their direwolves. He even has giants fighting for him."

"Giants?" Lord Janos laughed.

However, the others in the Council were not laughing. Giants they may question, but the tribes they do not. Especially the Dires and their Direwolves.

"Have you ever been beyond the Wall, ser?" Jon asked Lord Janos.

"I commanded the City Watch of King's Landing, boy," Lord Janos replied.

"And now you're here. You must not have been very good at your job," Jon said casually.

Lord Janos snapped, slamming his fists on the table as he stood up. "How dare you?!"

"There's a band of wildlings south of the Wall already led by Tormund Giantsbane." Jon continued. "I killed one of their Warg's and three others. The second Warg is the Wilding Huntress. They shot me full of arrows. Their orders are to attack Castle Black from the South when Mance hits it from the north. The signal for the attack will be a bonfire. Mance said it would be the greatest fire the North has ever seen. That's the truth. All the truth."

Lord Janos sat down.

"Do you intend to execute me or am I free to go?" Jon asked.

Alliser opened his mouth to speak, yet it was Maester Aemon who spoke first, "None of us are free. We are men of the Night's Watch. But we won't be taking your head today, Jon Snow. Go on!"

Jon merely nodded as he left the Shieldhall.

Deep down, he felt like he betrayed somebody. Only he couldn't decide who it was. He broke his vows as a means of survival. But at the same time, he betrayed Ygritte, his first life. A part of him wishes he stayed in the cave with Ygritte. However, two armies are making their way south with different causes. One for survival and the other devastation. Yet, both will cause destruction after eight-thousand years of being isolated from the rest of Westeros. Jon wishes there was a way to make peace between the wildlings and the Night's Watch.

For there was a greater enemy than Man.

* * *

**I have an important announcement!**

**Story updates will not be posted on a regular basis. I am going through my final semester of collage and that includes Student Teaching. _Sister's Keeper_ and _Warg Maiden_ will come when I have a chance. Sorry for the long wait.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	11. Chapter 10: First Strike

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 10: First Strike**

We live in a world of violence.

As a Free Folk, violence is how we survive. It was how we hunt. It was how we protect ourselves. And it was how we left a statement. Even to a Dire, we are subjected to violence despite our moral code. It was how our ancestors were, to separate our humanity to that of the monsters that live in the snow. We never kill a mortal man for pleasure. Not like the Thenns. In fact, Dires barely participated in raids. We never attack villages to steal.

However, there comes a time where survival comes first.

In order to get the Crows out of the way, it was time to force them out of their nest.

Therefore, Styr and Tormund decided to attack a small village. Although Tormund made it clear not to kill all the villagers, they were to spare the children and younger women. Styr did not like it but says he and his men will try to limit their casualties.

We came without warning. No one seemed to notice three dozen wildlings coming in until Ygritte fired an arrow, killing a man from the back of his head. The man dropped dead right next to his son. I stood there and watched, seeing the Thenns rushing in, swords and axes ready while the rest of us tormented the ground. The villagers were screaming, running for their very lives.

I looked around, Dark Sister in hand. One villager charged at me with a sickle. Rolling my eyes, I adjusted my grip and stabbed the fool straight in the chest. The man gagged, falling to his knees. Yanking the sword out, I continue to walk around until spotting a boy hiding underneath the wagon, grabbing the boy by the ankle, forcing him up and pinned to the wagon. He whimpered, closing his eyes. I grabbed his face, roughly to look at me.

"You know how to get to Castle Black?" I asked

"Yes. Yes." He whimpered.

"Listen here, boy," I sneered, forcing him to look at the Thenns hovering over a pile of bodies. "They are going to eat your parents. Go tell the crows at Castle Black."

The boy stumbled after I gave a shove. I stood there watching him run for his life as he made his way to Castle Black. Styr came over as he stood next to me.

"You think he'll send word?" he asked.

"After you tasting his parents' flesh, he will," I answered bitterly.

Styr scoffed before going back into the raid.

I took a deep breath and started walking around. It was almost an hour when the raid had come to an end. The younglings and adolescents and surviving adults forced into a building and were locked in while the free folk gathers much-needed supplies.

"We better get goin'," Ygritte said.

"Why? We got a place to base," Tormund said.

"You fool, if we stay, the Crows knows of our location," I growled. "Get the supplies we need and move out."

All eyes were on me. I was annoyed and pissed off that we had to do this raid in the first place. But I knew it had to be done in order to catch the Crows' attention. In a few days now, they will be sending their men to find and hunt us. And if what Jon says is true, that there are a thousand Crows at Castle Black, then they wouldn't be afraid to send a hundred or so men to eliminate us.

There was no argument, as Ygritte and many others agreed it was best to leave. We achieved our goal and caused a disturbance. So, we gather the supplies we needed before leaving the village, going back into the forest to hide and wait, as we made our way to Castle Black.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

It was three day run for Olly to arrive at Castle Black. The boy was in near exhaustion, barely able to utter a word. Jon was assigned to comfort the boy, get his strength back up before getting the information needed. With Sam and Maester Aemon's help, they got food and water in the boy's belly, and after a few hours later of rest, Olly told them what happen. Telling them the wildlings attacked his village. What shocked Jon is to know, a woman wearing a wolf's mask spared Olly and told him to run here.

_Imogen, what are you planning?_ Jon thought.

So, when Olly told the council and the Night's Watch what happened in his village in the Shield hall there was increased tension in the hall. To not only discover that three dozen wildlings climbed over the Wall, but Thenns are now in the mix. Thenns were the most difficult for the Night's Watch to defeat because of their brutality. They rarely crossed paths with Thenns since they live the furthest up North than any of the tribes. So, hearing Thenns are below the Wall stirred outrage.

"We need to teach them a lesson about the way we deal with their kind," Yarwyck bellowed.

"Aye!" the men agreed.

"Three dozen bodies with slit throats tossed off the top of the Wall," Yarwyck continued. "Seems like that would be a good lesson."

"Aye!"

"If we go after them, we'll be giving them what they want," Alliser said, being the voice of reason. "They want to draw us out, pick us off a few at a time."

"We have just over one-hundred men," Maester Ameon spoke. "And that's including stewards and builders. And me. We can't afford to lose a single man. We must remember our first responsibility. We are the Watchers on the Wall."

Pyp turned to face the men, "There's got to be a way to protect them."

"You're a champion of the common people, Lord Snow. What do you say to Brother Pyp's propositions?" Alliser taunts Jon.

All eyes turned to Jon, including Olly as much as Jon agrees that the wildlings need to be dealt with. It comes against numbers. Does the Night's Watch deal with thirty-six wildlings or prepare to go against ten-thousand lead by Mance?

"Mance Rayder is coming," Jon replied. "If the wildlings breach the Wall, they'll roll over everything and everyone for thousand miles before they reach an army that can stop them."

Alliser nodded in agreement, "We need to shore up Castle Black, and we need to defend the Wall. That is our job."

Suddenly the horn on top of the Wall blew. It was one blow indicating one this:

"Rangers returning," Pyp called out.

Everyone got up and ran outside. Jon and Pyp ran fast, along with three brothers as the one gate of the Wall. They ran halfway when seeing two Rangers limping in from the cold weather. Jon grabbed hold of one of them, realizing it was Eddison, while Pyp collected Grenn. Eddison looked up, seeing Jon.

"Thought you'd have blue eyes by now," Eddison jest's through shuddering teeth.

Jon couldn't help but laugh when hearing that.

Anyway, the men lead the two rangers back into Castle Black. They set them by a wagon that was near a firepit to warm them up. Allsier and the council made their way over.

"What took you so long?" Alliser asked.

"We were held up," Grenn answered.

"By what?" Alliser asked.

Grenn lifted his right arm showing the bruising that marred his skin, "Chains."

"We were guests of the mutineers at Craster's Keep," Eddison muttered bitterly.

"And the mutineers stayed?" Jon asked.

"They're not going anywhere," Grenn answered, shuddering more. "They've got Craster's food and his wives."

Jon mentally cursed as he pulled away to think about it. There was dozen or so of Watchers who know of Castle Black's secrets. Men who can tell Mance Rayder and the other Chieftains the truth from a lie. Jon told Mance there are at least a thousand men at Castle Black and their security up to date. Then he remembers that there is a Dire wolf there on the other side of the Wall waiting.

"Poor girls," Eddison mumbled. "Never thought they'd miss their daddy."

"Karl's running things now," Grenn added. "He's the one who put a knife through Craster's mouth.

Karl. As in Karl Tanner from Gin Alley of King's Landing? Jon has seen him and heard his conversations in the corner of the dining hall. The man was no honorable man. He was a ruthless killer, a cutthroat assassin who enjoyed killing. One was saying it was all he ever done. How Karl was given amnesty is surprising, for the man deserves the executioners ax instead of being a brother of the Night's Watch. Let alone earning the position of ranger. So, if Karl is out there, that man will sing if it means sparing his life if he doesn't kill the Wildlings firsts.

"We need to ride north and kill them all," Jon advised to Alliser.

"We just went over this, boy. Justice can wait," Alliser said.

"It's not about justice," Jon snapped. "I told the wildlings we had over a thousand men at Castle Black alone. "

This caught Alliser's attention.

"Karl and the others know the truth as well as we do. How long do you think they'll keep that information to themselves when the wildlings are peeling their fingernails off?" Jon said. "Mance has all he needs to crush us; he just doesn't know it yet. As soon as he gets his hands on them, he will. Then he'll throw his full strength at us. And even if every one of us kills a hundred wildlings, there's still not a thing we can do to stop them."

"I don't think I can kill a hundred wildlings," Pyp mumbled.

All eyes were Alliser, who was acting commander until the Choosing.

Even Alliser couldn't decide.

Jon knew they were fucked.

* * *

**I know this is a short chapter, the next one will be longer.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	12. Chapter 11: Spying on the enemy

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 11: Spying on the enemy**

_Imogen's POV_

Wanting to be alone, I found a spot near Ygritte, who was focused on making her arrows. As we sat there away from the Thenns, I turned my attention to Orell. Orell came over as he sat on a stump, looking at me. I petted Orell's neck before pulling out some dry meat and offer it to him. Orell accepted it, as he nipped at it.

"It's time to check on the little crow," I told Orell.

Orell nodded; he had his suspicions in what Jon said about Castle Black. Even though Mance outnumbers the Night's Watch, we had to make sure whether or not there are a thousand Crows perched on the Wall. So, staring at Ygritte, assuring she would guard my body, she nodded. Thus, I turned my attention to Frigg, who was perched up in the trees. She nodded, understanding what is happening as I warg into her.

I felt the air leaving my lungs, and the tension as my eyes rolled back. A second later, I was gazing through Frigg's eyes, seeing myself and Ygritte. The fiery spear wife waved her hand over my face seeing if I was there. I gave a shriek that Ygritte looked up and nodded, accepting that I was in Frigg. With nothing else to say, Orell and I flew towards Castle Black.

So much was swirling in my head in how close we are in escaping the White Walkers. All I want is my people safe. I want my family safe. My brothers were only sixteen. Though reliable and skilled warriors, they are not ready for wights. I want them and our family to live in peace. And there was my mother, Boudica, she was a priestess in our tribe. She is spiritually connected with the gods. She sensed the dead, and our lands have been dying. It has been dying for many decades. Something or someone has awakened the White Walkers. The second-Long Night is coming, all we can do is separate the living from the dead.

It wasn't long when arriving at Castle Black. Orell and I sat on the roof of a building. At first glance, I stared at the courtyard to see it doesn't look like much. I've seen thousands of people in a populated area. If Jon said there was a thousand, then they should all be cram up in the small castle. I began to count, to get a rough estimation of how many crows were here.

The sound of swords clashing caught my attention. I stared down to see training happening in the courtyard. There was Jon sparing with one of his brothers, as a group of recruits watched them. I recognized one of them being the boy I spared. I flew down lower to get a better look. The two continued to sparing, having a slight laugh, as Jon compliment the man.

Jon turned around, facing the recruits, "A lot of wildlings fight with a weapon in each hand." He grabbed a second sword. "The first thing you want to do is disarm them to try and even the odds."

He gave the second sword to his comrade. The man twirled the blades, getting a good grip, before charging at Jon. He had a good start until Jon disarm him from one blade. He swung again, except Jon grabbed him by the arm, and aimed his sword at the Crow's neck. The man chuckled, impressed.

Jon turned his attention to the recruits, "Let's see what you can do."

The boy stepped forward.

"Olly, you just watch for now," Jon said.

"I can fight," Olly assured.

"Have you ever held a sword before?" Jon asked, handing the sword that was on the ground to his comrade.

"I was the best archer in our hamlet," Olly said.

The men laughed.

"I was!" Olly defended.

"I believe you," the Crow next to Jon said. "We'll go hunting for rabbits one day. Right now, watch and learn."

Olly sighed but nodded as he stepped back with the group.

"You two," Jon said, pointing at volunteers. "Take it slow, try and disarm each other."

The two men nodded as they collected their swords. One man was tall with a white crew cut while the other dark hair with a scar on his face. The bigger one shouted, lunging at the scarred man. The scared man dodged, striking his sword down, disarming one sword. The bigger one continues to strike, only to miss. It was a mere few seconds as the scarred man maneuver around the other and hit him down the back, tripping him. The bigger one groaned, glaring at his opponent, attacking in rage. Only the scarred man stepped aside, striking him behind the legs causing the man to fall before punching him in the face. The bigger one fell, falling unconscious.

Jon came over to the scarred face man, "You know how to fight. You could have gone easier on him."

"He wouldn't have learned anything that way," the scarred man said.

"Lord Snow," another crow called out, exiting the castle. I recognized him. It was Alliser Thorne. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Grenn and I were helping them," Jon explained.

"Grenn's a ranger. You're a steward," Alliser reminded. "Maybe you forgot while you were off with your wilding bitch, but I didn't."

"Someone has to train them," Jon said sternly.

"And that someone isn't you," Alliser countered. "Go find a chamber pot to empty."

Jon stepped forward, glaring at the man.

"Go on. Do it," Alliser challenged. "You traitor's bastard. Give me an excuse. Mormont's not here to protect you now."

Jon adjusted his sword and left. I turned to Orell, who nodded when spotting this. It seems Jon is an outcast to both Free Folk and his brother Crows.

Alliser faced the recruits, "Get back to work. Now! I said now!"

The crows dispersed.

A bald-headed man with white scruffs came over to Alliser, "The bastard's well-liked. You're not."

"Ah, ya think I care if they like me? We're at war," Alliser said.

"For now," he said. "But you can't be acting commander forever. There will be a choosing. The old Maester will insist on it. You might reconsider his request to march on Craster's. Let the mutineers take care of Snow. Or you might be taking orders from him the rest of your life."

Alliser grunted, marching away.

Interesting.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon was pissed off as he put the training armor and sword away. He didn't understand why Alliser Thorne despises him so. The worse is that Alliser keeps reminding him that he was a bastard and that his father is a traitor. Jon knew Ned Stark is no traitor. If the news about Robb's attempt on a rebellion against the Lannisters says anything, it was clear their father was framed and murdered him in front of the people. Ned Stark is an honorable man, not a traitor.

The recruit with the two scars across his face came over to put a sword away.

"A bastard, eh," the man said.

Jon gave him a warning look.

"Took you for a highborn," the man corrected.

"My father was highborn. My mother wasn't," Jon explained, fastening his belt.

The man nodded, offering a hand, "Name's Locke."

Jon stared at it for a moment and accepted the shake, "Jon Snow."

After a quick shake, Jon continued.

"You fight well," he said. "What brought you up here?"

"A sense of duty. I wanted to do my part for the safety of the realm," Locke answered.

Jon gave him a look knowing that was bullshit. He knows at least nine out of ten men choose the Wall to escape and be pardon for their crimes. In his group of twenty men, it was Sam and him who volunteer for the Wall. Everyone else were criminal, well, except for his friends who were falsely accused of a crime to escape the executioner's ax.

Locke laughed at Jon's expression, in which Jon joined.

"I was a game warden in the Stormlands," Locke explained. "Fed a prized partridge to my hungry kids. I was stupid enough to get caught. Chose the Wall over losing my hand. Figured I wouldn't have to suck up to any highborn cunts here."

"Come on, get on with it," Alliser shouted at the men. "What are you waiting for? Summer?"

"Guess I was wrong," Locke murmured.

Jon snorted through his nose and smiled at that. That was when he spotted a white Snowy Owl perched on a wagon. At first glance, he thought it was one of the men's messaging birds. Until he stared closely at the owl's eyes. He knows from his hunting lessons that Snowy Owls have yellow eyes. Yet this one had grey eyes, almost human. An eagle came over and landed next to the owl. Jon mentally cursed, realizing the owl was Frigg being warged by Imogen. As for the eagle, he knew that bird anywhere, since he still has a slight scar on his face from the encounter. Orell, who is still inhabiting his familiar. Jon quickly looked at the weapons to see if there was anything he could use to kill them. He spotted a bow, with training arrows. Not lethal to humans, but with enough force could kill them or at least wound them enough, he could snap their neck.

So quickly, Jon grabbed it and aimed at Imogen. However, dark eyes connected with grey eyes. Imogen gave a shriek, flapping her wings to take off. Jon cursed as he fired, only to miss. He rushed out, knocking another arrow aiming for the sky spotting Imogen. He was about to fire again when suddenly Orell attacked him. Massive talons trying to scratch at his head. Grenn, who was nearby, rushed in, smacking the eagle away. Some of the men try to grab the eagle, except it took to the sky.

Jon panted, feeling a sting on his head, knowing he got some deep cuts. He looked up, seeing Orell and Imogen flying away. Deep down, Jon knew his secret was uncovered, knowing that Imogen was an intelligent wildling and counted their men. No doubt, she knows they have barely two hundred men and not a thousand.

"Snow!" Alliser bellowed.

Jon sighed, once more, having to explain everything.

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

I turned my direction to Orell, who flew beside me. He nodded, silently protecting Frigg as I return my spirit back to my body. I have to thank him; otherwise, Frigg and I would have died in Castle Black. So, with nothing else to say, I returned to my body with a gasp. After a few moments, I caught my bearings and looked up to see Ygritte. She had just finished trimming another feather for her arrow.

"Did you see?" Ygritte asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"And?"

I took a deep breath, "He's alive."

Ygritte inhaled sharply.

I watched her carefully. Ygritte shot three arrows in him. Three arrows that could kill any man. And yet he was still alive. So, I don't know what her intentions would be. There is a crow who knows our secrets.

"Ygritte…" I started. "What are your plans?"

Ygritte took a deep breath, "He's my kill. I will take care of him. Don't tell Tormund and the others."

I stared at her. Sometimes there are moments like these I wish I was the Three-Eyed Raven so I could see the possible futures. Especially when it comes to Ygritte with her impulsive behavior. No doubt, if I saw Ygritte's future, I will be overwhelmed by so many possibilities in where she would go. Other than a free spirit, a wild soul.

Therefore, I nodded; if she doesn't kill Jon, Tormund or Styr would happily do so. Even I would, in order to protect our people.

Ygritte nodded back as she helped me up. Collecting her arrows, we made our way back to the camp. Tormund was by a fire pit with the others. He was munching on a rabbit as he looked up. Seeing I had news, he set the rabbit down.

"What did you find?" Tormund asked.

"Castle Black is not as massive as Jon Snow claimed it to be. There are probably less than two hundred men there, not a thousand." I reported. "Based on my observation, Jeor Mormont is dead and under leadership of the Master of Arms name Alliser Thorn. Although, the Maester will soon have a vote for a new Lord Commander."

Tormund snorted, "So they are under no leadership."

"Not from what I've seen. They are divided." I said.

"And our Baby Crow?" Tormund asked.

I stared at Ygritte, who silently asked not to mention him. I then turned my attention to Tormund.

"I did not see him in the courtyard," I lied.

Despite that, he tried to kill me a few hours ago.

.**o0o**.

_Castle Black_

Jon was in the library with Sam as they were going over the maps for Beyond the Wall. Jon was told by Sam that he had an encounter with Bran at the Nightfort. His younger brother was there along with Summer, Hodor, and two other children around Bran's age. No Rickon or Shaggy Dog. In the end, Bran was alive from the supposed Greyjoy raid. What bothered Jon, was that Bran did not want to go to Castle Black? The Night's Watch would have protected Bran until they could find a loyal house to care for him.

However, based on what Sam said, Bran was going after a creature called the Three-Eyed Raven. That name again, Three-Eyed Raven. The wildlings were talking about it. Ygritte told him the Three-Eyed Raven is an ancient greenseer who lives among the old gods. One who holds the knowledge of the past and could see into the future. If he remembered correctly, Ygritte talked about Imogen having encountered this entity and almost becoming this creature. If what the wildlings say is true, then Jon needed to find Bran before that happens.

He searched through the maps. Knowing the majority of the confirmed wilding villages are abandoned now. So, he needs to see where Bran and his friends would go. Sadly, it was hard for Jon to concentrate while Sam is moping about Gilly and Little Sam. Jon felt somewhat sorry for him. Sending Gilly to Mole's Town where she could be safe and away from the other Night's Watchmen who have criminal intent on women. Little Sam, being a boy would be welcome with open arms. Since the Night's Watch, do accept orphan boys. However, Little Sam is not an orphan, his mother safety would be in danger. Only, Jon had wished Sam didn't leave Gilly at a brothel.

"I should never have taken her away," Sam moped.

"She wasn't safe here," Jon assured.

"She's not safe out there," Sam countered. "I should have known. You told us there were wildlings south of the Wall. If they're raiding the smaller villages, Mole's Town could be next."

"Castle Black could be next," Jon muttered.

"I should go back for Gilly," Sam whined.

"We have orders. No one's to leave the castle." Jon reminded, still focused on the map.

"I remember when you disobeyed orders and rode south to help Robb," Sam challenged.

Jon looked up, staring at him, "And I remember who came after me and brought me home."

Sam took a deep breath knowing Jon was right.

"I know how hard it is, Sam, believe me," Jon said, then return to the map. "When you told me about Bran going beyond the Wall, all I could think about was getting my strength back so I could go and find him."

Sam sighed, "I wish I could have convinced him to come back with me."

Jon nodded.

"I tried. Really, I tried." Sam continued.

Jon knew that. Sam already had Gilly and Little Sam. If it was Bran and Hodor, Sam would have a better chance of convincing the two-follow back to Castle Black. But the two young companions, if Sam said correctly their names were Meera and Jojen, who had strong beliefs of going beyond the Wall. Sam would be outnumbered. Therefore, Jon doesn't hold any resentment towards Sam.

"How fast could they travel?" Jon asked aloud. "A crippled boy being pulled on a sledge by a simpleton?"

"I don't know." Sam replied, then suggested, "They'd pass wildling villages. They could try to find shelter at one of them?"

Jon shook his head, "The wildlings have joined up with Mance. Every village or shelter place will be deserted."

Sam came over to get a better look. So, focus on their conversation; they did not hear Locke coming down and standing at the entryway. Locke has deceived the Night's Watch quite easily. He was not here as a game's keeper. No, he was here on a mission to collect Brandon and Rickon Stark and kill Jon Snow. Sent by the Boltons to secure their position as Lord Wardens of the North. If Locke secures Brandon Stark, then he can become a lord and own lands of his owns. Already a House Sigil, of a bloody severed hand seems appealing since Locke cut off the Kingslayer sword hand. Ah, yes, a good insult to House Lannister for Ser Jaime, lying to him about Lord Selwyn Tarth paying the ransom in his daughter's weight in sapphires.

Thus, if he could use Jon to get to Brandon Stark, he can kill two birds with one stone.

Meanwhile, Jon talked with Sam.

"Except…" Jon pointed at one location.

"Craster's?" Sam gasped. "You think Bran might have found –"

"Snow," Locke called out, disrupting their conversation.

The two men turned around facing him.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Locke apologized. "Thorne wants to see you."

Jon glance at Sam, wondering what stupid excuse Alliser Thorne wanted him to do.

**.o0o.**

Alliser Thorne sat at the Council table in the Mass Hall, chomping away on a chicken leg. Jon has stood there for some time, wondering what the active Lord Commander had wanted him to do. Let alone having to humiliate him even more in front of his brothers. Little did Jon know that Alliser has taken Lord Janos Slynts advice by sending Jon on a mission to end the mutineer. Hopefully, Karl Tanner can finish him off and be done with Ned Stark's bastard.

"You foray to Craster's Keep, I'll sanction it," Alliser said with a mouth full of chicken.

This surprised Jon as he looked at Janos. He wondered if these two were jesting him. There was a catch. There has to be a catch. Alliser Thorne doesn't easily give out assignments to his unfavorable brother.

"But I won't order anyone to go with you," Alliser continued. "Volunteers only."

It's more than enough.

"Thank you, Ser Alliser," Jon replied, being respectful.

Alliser nodded, going back to his meal. Although the scornful kept watching.

Jon turned around, seeing his brothers eating and chatting. Taking a deep breath, he got down from the platform and stood center to address them. He cleared his throat. One thing he will admit was he was terrible at public speeches. No matter how many speeches he attended with Ned and Robb, or tutoring growing up, speeches were an inner fear. It wasn't staged fright. It's saying the right words. So, he cleared his throat, looking at them.

"Ahem Brothers," Jon said in a normal voice.

They did not hear him. Grenn, who was observing Jon since going up onto the Council platform, grabbed his cup and pounded it on the table to get everyone's attention. Jon appreciated it until all eyes were on him.

Seven hells, Jon thought, before taking a deep breath.

"I'm going beyond the Wall to Craster's Keep. I'm going to capture the mutineers holed up there or kill them. I'm asking for volunteers to come with me. There's sixty miles of wilderness between here and Craster's, and Mance Rayder has an army bearing down on us, but we have to do this. Our survival may depend on us getting these mutineers before Mance does. They know the Wall. They know our defenses. If Mance learns what they know, we're lost. But f that's not enough, then consider this. If the Night's Watch are truly brothers, then Lord Commander Mormont was our father. He lived and died for the Watch and he was betrayed by his own men. Stabbed in the back by cowards. He deserved far better. All we can give him now is justice. Who will join me?"

Silence engulfed the room except for the creaking sounds of chairs being pressed on. All the Crows deep in thought contemplating about this. Lord Commander Mormont has done so much for them. He remembered their names, their backgrounds, never judging them despite everything they did in their past. Giving them all a second chance. However, could they risk their lives and kill their own brother despite that they betrayed the Night's Watch?

Grenn was the first to stand up, nodding to Jon. Followed by Edd, which Jon appreciated, since these two were held captive and have inside knowledge. Several more stood up along with Locke.

"I can't let a recruit come north of the Wall," Jon explained.

"Then let me say my vows," Locke suggested. "if it's a fighter you're heading for, then you need men who know how."

All eyes turned to Jon, who then looked at the council. Alliser nodded, allowing it since he saw Locke fight and knew the recruit doesn't need further training. With nothing else to add on in the discussion, Jon finally said.

"Thank you, brothers."

They all nodded.

**.o0o.**

_Beyond the Wall_

Skadi scavenged the Haunted Forest near Craster's Keep. She was near the border to Castle Black, but she could not sense Imogen being near. Let alone any sightings of other Direwolves or familiars. So Skadi, mainly hunted around killing some wild game and slept. The weather hasn't been bad, except a nasty blizzard a few days ago, which Skadi found an abandoned shed and slept in it.

She was a good and loyal familiar to Imogen. For twelve or so years, she stood by Imogen side. They've only been separated for a few hours in the past. However, to be separated this long was lonely. Despite having the magical bond that allowed each other to their condition, that the Three-Eyed Raven put on them. It is not the same as having your human right next to you. If Skadi was human, you might as well call them sisters.

That had changed when she came across the scent of Crows. She followed it, discovering it was Craster's Keep. Something about humans born below the Wall smelled different. They didn't smell like the Free Folk, the Children, or any humanoid beings in the True North. They didn't smell like nature. Not holding a musk scent man have, or a sweet blood fragrance of a fertile woman. No, they smell ripe and rotten at the same time. The men do at least. The women, on the other hand, Skadi could smell the women being true Northerners, except something was off about them as well. They all smell the same mingle with the same male scent. Skadi knew these women weren't adequately bred. Like a rabbit mating with its sibling, they inbreed.

Skadi was tempted to storm in and kill the Crows. She thought it was a way to please her human, presenting her prey at her mistress's feet. Bringing back memories when Skadi brought rabbits and other animals to Imogen when they lived under the Weirwood tree. The Children fed Imogen, but Skadi knew Imogen needed meat in order to survive, not roots and berries. Unfortunately, Skadi spotted the Crows had weapons. Swords, spears, and crossbows. She may get four, maybe five, but she would be outnumbered.

As she watched from a distance, she caught the scent of a direwolf. She howled late into the night, trying to catch his or her attention. The lost direwolf howled back, which she followed to find him trapped in a shed. The doors were chained impossible to see. Skadi thought about breaking the shed to free the young pup. She would bang on it a couple of times, yet the frozen petrified wood wouldn't budge. She looked at the direwolf trapped inside, seeing it was roughly a few years old. Not a decade old like her. Male, by the scent, having white fur. What she noticed, as the young direwolf came close to the cracks, was his unique red eyes. Not like her heterochromia of amber and blue eyes. Most wolves either have amber eyes, some have grey eyes, brown eyes, or even blue eyes. But red eyes and heterochromia were unique and rare.

Skadi felt sorry for the wolf. So, she kept him company during the night. Laying by the shed as the two communicated in their secret language. She learned his name was Ghost. His master was a Man of the Night's Watch name Jon. They went North to stop the White Walker, except his master departed on a separate hunt, and he stayed to help the leader and friends. Unfortunately, the men killed the leader, and before he could help, they attack and forced him in this cage. Every other day, they feed him while snow was his source of water. Skadi growled, wanting to attack the Crows, except Ghost, wanted to wait. Apparently, Grenn and Edd tried to rescue Ghost but ran out of time. Grenn promised Ghost they will get help before leaving. Skadi doubted it.

She tried several times to break down the shed, yet Craster had built a sturdy cage. She tried digging, yet the ground was too hard, almost like stone. She growled, waiting, and thinking of another plan. She believed that the Free Folk were coming south. If she got Valko and Fenrir, then maybe they could get Ghost out. When a Crow did come out, she would hide and wait for him to open the chained door. Except, the Crow would toss meat through the small window and walk away.

This annoyed her. So Skadi went to the back of the shed and continue to bang on it. She thought sooner or later, the wood will give and crack. Thus, that is what she did at night when the Crows were not near, and her limbs no longer hurting. Striking at it over and over again.

When the Crows noticed the wood to the shed was falling apart, they then built a cage with spikes. Skadi thought the humans were stupid and tried to break it. Except, when she did, she felt a spike stab her and pulled away whimpering. Ghost whimpered, wishing he could help his new friend.

Skadi knew she had to help Ghost.

But how?

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	13. Chapter 12: The Abandoned Children

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**Warning: This chapter is rated M for violence against women, rape, and language.**_

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Abandoned Children**

_The past_

_Imogen's POV_

Their numbers started out small. Eight thousand years ago, there was a massive army created in his image. The majority were the living dead, once alive and then resurrected with blue eyes. They were slowly decaying on the longest night in Westerorsi history. They were called wights. The living who have become the undead. Mindless creatures that obey their alpha. While others, the small minority, were not wights. They were called the Others. Once mortal, except they never died.

They were once born in a mother's womb; they lived their lives crying and wailing, filled with abandonment and fear. Instead of a mother's hands to comfort them. Cold icy hands caressed the abandoned child, as a talon finger pressed along his or her cheek. Whatever the color of the child's eyes was, turn to the same shade of icy blue of their new father. And slowly, they become the image of their father.

That was how the Others were created. In the image of their father. Tall as if they have giants' blood in their veins. Skin white as snow. Their body carved like dripping ice that had been frozen. Their hair nearly crystalizes. And lastly, eyes like the ice.

The Night King, after his birth from the Children, took his time in creating his army. When the Children created him, they helped him learn how to fight, how to use his powers. However, becoming this entity took away his bodily functions and his emotions as he watched two people in the distance mating. Deep down, he knew he was unable to conceive a child. However, the longing was there. All living things, despite their species, crave for a legacy.

The Three-Eyed Raven and I stood there in the distance. Watching the Night King's beginning. For nearly two thousand years, discovering himself and his destiny the Children had planned out for him. We observe as I asked questions on why? As usual, the old Raven would say:

"Every creature has an origin."

So, I watched until the sound of crying could be heard off in the distance. The Night King paused from wandering in the forest. Curious, he went out to investigate. He followed the cries until coming to a tree where a nestle babe wailed — a changeling. My ancestors believed in the fay, tricksters whose babes can't survive so easily and switch their own with a newborn. When the human mother relies upon this or believes their child has been switched with a changeling, they nurture it for a few days, before taking the changeling out to the forest. Hopefully, the fay can return their child back. Only, it was not the fay that found this babe, no it was the Night King.

He took the child out of the tree and stared at him. The babe cried under his cold touch, wailing in fear, coldness, and hunger. Based on the appearance, the babe appeared to be a season old.

Trying to be human, the Night King gave the babe a smile. Although it was not quite as appealing as he revealed a dark abyss with white teeth. The babe continued to cry. The immortal did not know what to do until caressing his right hand on the child's face. The moment his talon nail touched those chubby cheeks, the magic deep inside swirled into the babe. The babe no longer cried, as his fair skin turned white, and brown eyes swirled into blue — the firstborn of the Others.

No longer did the baby cry. No longer was he afraid, the thirst and hunger vanished, leaving a hollow shell. However, the Night King stared at him as if a father greeting his firstborn son. Pride and joy, though the expression was limited. The Night King took the babe and brought him back to the Children. The Children were surprised by this, yet if their living weapon could populate, the quicker they could defeat the First Men.

So, over the centuries, the Night King searched for unwanted children. Boys and girls, abandoned in the woods or lost. He did not speak but offered a hand. Naïve or too young to comprehend took his hand, unknowingly all memory of their mortal life has come to an end. That is how the Others came to be. Forgotten children raised to be warriors to attack their once mortal past. Alongside the wights, the White Walkers fought for their King, who served the Children.

Until everything changed.

A trail of winter and bodies.

Thus, it started the Long Night.

The Children of the Forest did not anticipate this. Their creation and his army were supposed to kill or push away the First Men out of Westeros. But as the bodies piled up, the wights could not separate the Children and other original species from the humans. Anything that had a pulse was to be eliminated. The Children had no choice but to form a truce with the humans to destroy their own creation.

A war that lasted a generation.

A war that cost the Night King his children.

The Night King and his children were pushed into the far North. Back into the Lands of Always Winter. His children decimated, leaving several dozen. Trapped under a spell, in an eternal slumber.

"If they were put under an eternal sleep all this time, what woke them up?" I asked.

The Three-Eyed Raven stared at the chambers in which the White Walkers slept. Their tombs the First Men and Children of the Forest created to hold them in. Something must have woken them up.

"Not all of them were trapped in the Ice," the Raven said. "Some of the Others escaped and wandered through the North. Hunted down by your ancestors. Until one day, the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Nights Watch fell in love with a female Other. The Corpse Queen."

The Three-Eyed Raven showed me the once legend. I remember this one, and it was about the 13th Crow who fell in love with the Others, trying to reunite the two species only to fall into power."

"Do you remember how the legend goes?" The Raven asked.

I nodded for the elders used to talk about it.

_"A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her, he gave his soul as well. He brought her back to the Nightfort and proclaimed her a Queen and himself her King, and with strange sorceries, he bound his Sworn Brothers to his will."_

"Such atrocities were committed during this union," the Raven said. "Thirteen years of darkness. It wasn't until Brandon the Breaker, the King of Winter, and Joramun, the King-Beyond-the-Wall… two Kings of each side of the Wall, knowing their truth joined forces and freed the Night's Watch. Ending their reign for the Blood sacrifices couldn't awaken the First."

"So, what did awake the true Night King?" I asked.

The Three-Eyed Raven turned his head and looked at me.

"Ancient magic can be awakened by new magic," he said.

I was confused until the scenery changed to a barren rock island. It took me a moment until remembering my visits with Bloodraven. We were on Dragonstone, as the volcano remained dormant. I was staring out into the east, seeing massive ships across the narrow sea. Above them were massive dragons. Bloodraven talked about the dragons, I have seen the illustrations in books, carvings, and the sigil. But seeing the dragons while with the Three-Eyed Raven showed me these gigantic creatures of fire.

"Their magic awakes the Others, waking the Night King. But they waited until their strength returned and began the search for abandoned children lost in the forest."

The scenery changed back to the haunted forest. There was a small keep. It took me a moment until spotting a man carrying newborn babe out into the forest while the wife wailed, surrounded by her two daughters. Birthing blood drenching the floor. It took me a moment to realize this was Craster's Keep. One wilding who has been ostracized from the community for doing a forbidden sin. The Free Folk exiled him, for what he did to his daughters and granddaughters and so forth to all the women in his clan is disgusting. He rapes and marries them. It brought back the discussion with Bloodraven, who told me about his family performing incest to keep the bloodline pure. However, a father or mother cannot breed with their children.

We watch Craster taking his newborn son out in the snow.

"A few years ago, an Other was wandering around and was about to attack Craster. To spare his life, Craster made a deal, an offering… his sons to the Others. This allowed the Night King to restore his children. Since no one else would abandon their children."

He was right. The Free Folk took survival seriously, making sure all couples were not related by blood. Let alone our environment would either kill the newborn, or they adapt to the cold. No longer the practice of changeling's switch continued. It died out long ago. If a child was sick, a mother would comfort him or her until their dying breath. If the child somehow became deformed, the cold would take them away, or the father would silently smother them in their sleep as the mother slept. Knowing a deformed could never survive in the True North.

We watch as Craster abandon his son out in the woods. A part of me wanted to rush over and help the boy baby just as I was about to step forward until the Three-Eyed Raven grabbed my arm.

"No," he said.

"Why not?" I asked. "We can't let him die or become one of them."

"The past is already written. The ink is dried. What's done is done," he murmured. "He will not be alone for much longer."

I turned around, seeing a White Walker coming forward, gently collecting the baby. I have seen them violent, stone creatures. However, when it comes to a babe…they are gentle. They don't gush over the child like humans do. But their gestures are soft and tender, ensuring the baby is safe and brought to the Night King, where he turns him to one of them.

"Are there any more women?" I asked.

"No, all the daughters perished by the First Men. He lives with his adopted sons, waiting for the time to strike. It was through this bargain did the numbers start to grow."

Twenty to thirty years, the White Walkers were revived along with the curse.

It makes you wonder if Craster was the one who condemned our lands?

As I turned around watching the ritual being performed.

The Night King looked up from the babe in his arms.

For once, I felt like he was staring right at me, deep into my soul.

The Three-Eyed Raven placed his hand on my shoulder bring us back to the present.

**.o0o.**

I gasped awake, from the dark memories rushing through my veins as I clutched the bedroll and took several deep breaths. I hated these memories. It reminded me of who I almost become. The pain of losing friends and a lover. All because I wasn't good enough. My time with the Three-Eyed Raven, he focused my training on the past. Not once did he show me the future. Whatever my possible future showed to him, had him disregard me.

The worse dreams I had from the past is when observing the White Walkers. More importantly, …watching the Night King. Every time I watched his past, there was a sense he noticed me. The Three-Eyed Raven stated, in his damned life, he can sense us, but he couldn't see us. However, there were a few incidents. I had vision encountering this immortal creature. He tried to touch me; each attempt he failed.

I remember in one vision I was at the Lands of Always Winter. It was night; the dark sky is illuminated by the Northern Lights. It was rare to see these magnificent lights, for they barely reach the Frostfangs except during our winter summers. I thought it was a dream. A peaceful dream. That is until hearing the crunching of the snow. I thought it was the Three-Eyed Raven, about to give me a lesson about the lights. When I turned around, I saw it was the Night King. I gasped, for this was not possible. He stared at me and tried to reach out, about to grasp my hand. I stepped back, avoiding his grasp before falling into a chasm and waking back to reality. There the Three-Eyed Raven warned me to never let the Night King touch me. If he did, then he will know everything.

Frigg flew down and landed on my chest. I sighed, petting carefully along with her feathers as she helped me calmed down. I remember how I have got her. It was the day after I found myself abandoned in the forest. Only Skadi and I were out and alone. Not sure where to go. We needed to find shelter or a village that the Dires trade with. However, I didn't know where I was. That is until I spotted a Snowy Owl perch in a tree. She was the only bird nearby. I had no intention of keeping her; just borrowed her body to find help.

However, when I saw the sighting of the nearest band of travelers, I calculated the distance. Once I was done with her, she would follow us. I tried sending her away, letting her be free. Unfortunately, she kept coming back. In the end, I named her Frigg after one of our folklore. Of a beloved Queen. I do miss Skadi, I could sense her through our bond. She is fine although she was annoyed by something. I assumed some of her prey got away.

It was still the early hours. Dawn was slowly approaching. I got up and quietly rolled my bedroll before scouting the area, checking the traps to see if any rabbits or animals were caught for today's meal. As I check, I stopped to stare at my hand, seeing the cut from a few weeks ago. I hope Bran has taken my advice and doesn't see the Three-Eyed Raven. He is a threat to all wargs and greenseer. All he wants is our body.

A memory of Brynden popped up.

"No," I hissed, clenching my hand, and closed my eyes.

I will not remember our last conversation

"He made a choice," I growled through clenched teeth.

I will never forgive Bloodraven.

I may have forgiven Leaf and the Children. But I could never forgive Bloodraven and the Three-Eyed Raven.

"Imogen," a voice whispered out.

I turned around, seeing it was Ygritte.

"Memories from the past?" she asked.

I nodded sadly, looking down.

She came over, placing a hand on my shoulder, "You need to move on."

"I do, only the past haunts me," I whispered.

Ygritte nodded.

She knows the past is part of me. As she is dealing with the same pain after what Jon did to her. Men are selfish and cruel. All they do is take.

**.o0o.**

_Craster's Keep_

The gods' forsaken keep was filled with utter dismay. The pain was replaced with agony. The women thought Craster was a living hell. A selfish man who would rather rape and marry his daughters instead of letting them grow up and find a better husband. His first wife and daughters suffer through his abusive behavior. Comforting each other from the sexual and physical abuse if defy him. Comforting each other when a newborn son is taken away. Their souls were hollow, manipulated in the cold gods that take their sons.

That was until the Night's Watch came for their expedition. The girls ignored them to the best of their ability. They try their best not to stare at the men. Not even talked to them, yet they merely stared down at their leather boots and responded with a shake or nod. If Craster sees them utter a word to the Crows, as Craster calls them, he will beat the girls. Only the elder Morag, the first wife. The mother, grandmother, sister, basically all familiar female title is allowed to talk to the men. Morag, being elderly, doesn't give the men interest in her. Most communication she had with the men were going over herbs, supplies, and where to put things when the men are obligated to help.

However, everything changed when the mutiny happens. Morag tried her best to get her daughter/sisters out of the way, as brother fought against brother. In the chaos, Karl Tanner fought Jeor Mormont, yet it was Rast who gave the Lord Commander the final blow. Fourteen men survived, two were prisoners, while the rest were deserters. At first, Morag tried to have a conversation with the deserters. Give them all supplies so they could leave. Craster was dead, and the women and girls thought they were free. Sadly, the twelve men thought differently, they were no noblemen. They were monsters.

Men take.

So for months, the women were raped.

Morag tried her best to protect her girls. She kept tabs on each of the moonblood and gave them tea so they wouldn't bare their children. So far, the mutineers did not rape the children. Although, the girls who were fifteen and older were targeted. Morag, desperate to save her daughter/sisters, thought of the two prisoners. She thought, if she can get the two men out of here, then the other Crows will come to retrieve the deserters, and the women can finally be free. But Grenn and Edd haven't returned.

Therefore, Morag could do nothing but try to keep her daughter/sisters alive. Despite everywhere she turned was her beloved family being raped and tortured.

Men only take.

As Morag was tending to one of the girls giving birth, the men were in the keep feasting on all flesh and ale. Karl sat by the fire, his hand combing through Sissy's hair as if she was a dog. Sissy remained quiet, staring at the fire, trying not to think of anything. Karl made Sissy his bitch. None of the men dare touched her. Her face and loins hurt, yet she remains silent. Despite the fact, she was holding a cracked skull.

Karl grabbed the skull filled with wine and brought it up to his lips. The wine splashing across his face and fingers. He turned the skull around, staring into the empty sockets where blue eyes once remained.

"Karl Tanner from Gin Alley is drinking wine from the skull of Jeor _fucking_ Mormont," the man murmured in dark pleasure, bringing the skull to his lips, pouring the red liquid upon his lips gazing it. He then stared at the face. "Any commands for us, Lord Commander?" as he brought the skull to his ear. "What's that? Fuck 'em till they're dead? Did you hear that, boys? Fuck 'em till they're dead."

The men laughed, fucking, or molesting the women they had. Karl grabbed Sissy by the hair, yanking at it in his glee. Before shoving her to the ground hard. The sound of a canine squeal caught Karl's ears. It was Ghost. Karl being in charge had Ghost caged, knowing one day the direwolf would come in use, although the shed was somehow damaged, that they had to forge a new one to keep the beast contained.

"Rast," Karl called out.

Rast was by the fire, having a girl on his lap. Her back was to him as he kissed her flesh and fondled her breast. Karl reached over, grabbing one of the organs, and tossed it at Rast.

"Go outside and feed the beast," Karl ordered.

"We should kill that thing," Rast muttered, still kissing the girl's body.

"You should shut your fucking hole, ugly cunt," Karl countered.

The men who weren't fucking watch this. Knowing Rast was in big trouble.

"You look like a fucking ball sack, ugly. Look at your stupid cunt face," Karl continued his insults. "I could piss in any gutter and soak five of you. Know how much they paid me to kill a man in King's Landing? Seven Silvers. They told me a man's name and that man never saw daylight again. None of them cocksuckers got away from me."

Karl stood up, kicking his chair before leering over Rast. He made the gesture for the girl to get off. She did so. Rast scowled, turning his direction to the firepit.

"Haven't lost a fight since I was nine. Maybe it's time," Karl said, giving Rast a nudge with his foot. "What do you think, eh? Maybe you're the man. Eh, cunt?"

As he kicked him again.

Rast glared at Karl, "I wouldn't stand a chance. None of us would."

"I was a fucking legend in Gin Alley. A fucking legend!" Karl bellowed. "I would take any night – any knight, any time. Fucking cunts in steel plate. Fucking cowards."

The door opened as Mogar entered, holding a newborn. All eyes were on them. The girls were wondering about the gender of the newborn's sex. If a girl, the child will grow up in suffering, but if the newborn is a boy… Mogar expression gave the girls the answer. All were murmuring the same phrase over and over like it was a prayer.

"A gift for the gods."

"A gift for the gods."

"A gift for the gods."

Karl stared at Mogar confused, "What the fuck is that?"

"Craster's last child. A boy," Mogar replied.

"What am I supposed to do with him?" Karl asked.

Then Karl realized something. On occasion, there is a family who are gifted with only daughters. But as Karl looked around, there are twenty daughter/wives. What is the chance a man siring only twenty daughters? He tried not to think about the granddaughters/daughter. His head hurts, that basically all the women were considered daughters.

"What did Craster do with 'em?" Karl asked. "Kill 'em before they could grow up and do the same to him?"

Mogar continued to rock the fussing babe, not answering.

"All right," Karl said as he came over, drawing a dagger. "Don't need another mouth to feed. Hand him over."

"He didn't kill them," Mogar corrected. "He offered them."

"To who?" Karl asked.

"To the gods," Mogar answered.

"The white walkers," Karl whispered.

"A gift for the gods," the women chanted.

Now it makes sense how Craster and his clan survive decades out in these woods. He sacrificed his sons to the White Walkers, and they leave them alone. _Smart man_, Karl thought. He wasn't going to risk breaking that tradition, not after seeing the White Walkers and Wights at the Fist of the First Men. The women continued the chant, which disturbed the men.

"Shut up!" Karl ordered.

Silence engulfed the room.

Karl stared at Mogar, neutral about all this.

He put his dagger away and took hold of the newborn, "So . . .if it worked for him. . . Let's give the walkers what they want."

The babe cried in Karl's arm. Karl looked at the newborn in disgust before handing him over to Rast. Rast was surprised, not expecting that as he held the babe, not sure how to properly hold a newborn.

"Rast is headed that way," Karl murmured.

_Why am I always the one given the tough jobs,_ Rast thought as he stood up.

Karl also shoved the stiff organ on Rast's belt before sending him off. Rast took a deep breath, ignoring the stares as he left the keep and headed out to the woods. Mogar having sympathy pointed the direction in where to place the child — informing him of a small circle patch. Rast nodded as he headed that way. He muttered, hating this. Confirming wildings are savage people.

At least the babe stopped crying.

He walked through the snow, the cold air not affecting him as much from the wine in his veins. The baby looked at him; scared. Rast would rock him now and then. It wasn't long before Rast found the small clearing as the trees were in a circle. He stopped staring at the boy. Based on his knowledge, the boy would hardly survive being a product of incest. Caster fucking his daughter or granddaughter. He stared at the babe, as the newborn did the same.

Carefully he set the newborn down on a pile of snow. There was some guilt since this child did no wrong. Rast wished there was a Sept or an orphanage; he could drop the baby off and run away. Yet this was not his son. In order to protect the keep and prevent the White Walkers from coming, a sacrifice had to be done. However, murdering a baby would be on his conscience. So Rast, adjusted the blanket on the boy's face, covering him up before leaving. He ignored the wails, rushing back.

.**o0o**.

Skadi ears twitched when hearing the sound of a baby crying. Ghost did as well, giving a whimper. Skadi, having a bad feeling, stared at Ghost before leaving to investigate it. Ghost watched the black she-wolf leave, disappearing into the darkness.

Several minutes later, Rast appeared staring at him through the cage. Ghost growled at Rast. He saw how Rast treated Jon and Samwell. Remembering the time, Jon had him climb on Rast and growled at the bastard to shit himself. Rast glared at Ghost in return.

"Pink-eyed fuck," Rast muttered. "You thirsty?"

He bit off the cap to the waterskin, taking a sip of water. Despising the beast, Rast poured the clear liquid right in front of Ghost. It puddled by his feet, spilling towards to the cage only to turn into ice. Ghost snarled and growl at him. He growled again, scratching at the cage. It scared Rast, causing him to fall back into the snow.

"Fuck," Rast growled, standing up, glaring at the direwolf.

The sound of cawing caught his attention. The wind howling, and snow began to fall. Let alone the newborn cries were becoming faint. He stared at the puddled and noticed it was solid ice. A white walker was near. Not wanting to risk it, Rast tossed the organ at Ghost before rushing back inside to the keep.

**.o0o.**

Meanwhile...

Bran, Jojen, Meera, and Hodor were huddle by the fire. They have spent roughly a month or so traveling sixty miles up North. When darkness came, they stopped to make camp. All of them huddled together to stay warm and block the small winds from extinguishing their fire.

Suddenly the sound of a baby crying caught their attention. They were utterly confused. They have reached several abandon wildling villages finding no signs of life. They took the opportunity to find some proper winter gear and supplies, yet no wildings. So, to hear a baby crying out of nowhere had them disturbed.

"Hodor," the giant man mumbled.

Meera turned her attention to the sound of the cry.

"Do you hear that?" Bran asked.

Meera stood up, her hand resting on her dagger, "Is that a baby?"

Jojen turning pale had a bad feeling, "It's coming."

Bran adjusted himself, "I'm going out there."

"No, we need to stay together," Meera disagreed.

"I'm going," Bran said as he warged into Summer.

His body went numb while his brown eyes rolled to the back of his head. Meera stared at Summer, seeing the direwolf's eyes changed from amber to brown. He whined for a second, before nodding at Meera and took off into the forest to find the baby. See if it was a band of wildlings or a family nearby. They didn't hear any women wailing from childbirth, so something terrible is happening.

As Bran went to investigate, he found a trail of human footprints and the scent of a man. The baby continued to cry, followed by a new sound — a wolf howls. Something inside Summer's memory sounded family. As if he was hearing a sibling's voice. Summer's emotions took control as they search for the wolf. Both went fast, until spotting Ghost in a cage. Bran ran faster, going after Ghost to free him when all of a sudden, he fell into a trench.

The sudden fall startled Bran back into his body. Bran panicked started by all this.

"Bran. Bran," Meera called out, rushing over to him.

Meera placed her hand on Bran's shoulder, "Bran, what happened?"

"Summer, he's hurt," Bran panted. "They've caught him in a trap."

"Who?" Meera asked.

"I didn't see, but they have my brother's wolf," Bran said, catching his breath. "They have Ghost."

**.o0o.**

Skadi found the source of the crying to be a baby. She knelt down, sniffing at it, smelling blood, amniotic fluid, and pee. No doubt, the baby was a newborn. Barely an hour old. She glanced around, trying to figure out where his mother was. It was strange to find a baby abandoned out here in the forest. The baby continued to cry, being cold, scared, and hungry. Skadi tried to figure out a way to carry the baby and take him somewhere safe. She tried lifting him up by the blanket, but it started to unravel. Immediately she stopped.

This was no good. If only Imogen were here to pick the baby up.

Suddenly the crunching of snow caught Skadi's attention. She smelt it. Frozen death. She turned around to see the source it being none other than a White Walker. It was tall and gaunt, with flesh pale as milk. Eyes were a cold blue, almost burning. It wore black armor while holding an ice sword. The black direwolf growled at the White Walker to stay away.

The White Walker tilted his head before releasing a blood-curdling scream. Skadi whimpered from the sound, still standing between the baby and the Other. The White Walker frowned, drawing his blade and attacked. Skadi thinking quickly lunged forward, pouncing onto the enemy. She barked, snapping for the Other's neck reading to tear it out. The White Walker maneuvered his leg and kicked Skadi off him with unexplainable force. Skadi fell but quickly recover, ready to attack again. She charged at him with full force. The moment her teeth was about to snap at his head, the White Walker spun around and punched her, sending her across and smack into a tree. Her head made contact with the bark, then falling into the ground.

A whimper escaped as she tried to stand up, yet her vision was clouded.

Through a haze, she saw the White Walker pick up the babe. He turned around watching the direwolf, trying to get up, but couldn't. The beast collapsed, falling unconscious. Nodding his head in approval, the white walker left to find his horse and head back to the Land that is Always Winter.

**.o0o.**

The following morning, Bran, Hodor, Meera, and Jojen went in search of Summer and Ghost. Bran thought Jon could be out here. If Jon was, then he could help them on their quest to find the Three-Eyed Raven. They soon found Craster's Keep, staying hidden amongst the trees and bushes. They could see men and women there tending to the Keep. Bran got a better look, seeing the men were wearing black.

"They're Night's Watch," he noticed. "Look."

Jojen nodded, although he was not feeling well. Sweat was coating his skin, and his face was a bit pale. Meera knew her brother was going to have another seizure soon. Although it has been a few days since the symptoms started showing, this was going to be stress induce and not a vision. Meera observes the Keep, noticing something was not right. Having sharper eyes, she saw one of the Night's Watch, grabbing hold of a woman.

"Jon might be here," Bran said hopefully.

"If Jon was here, why would they put his wolf in a cage?" Meera asked quietly.

The mutineer took hold of the woman, shouting at her, before dragging her away.

Disgust swept through Meera, she knew what was about to happen.

"They might have been Night's Watch once, not anymore," she said as she stood up. "We're not safe here. We need to go."

"No," Bran gasped.

Meera placed her hand on his shoulder, "Bran, we need to go now."

"I'm not leaving without Summer," Bran argued.

Meera looked at Jojen to help her. Jojen nodded in agreement with Bran. They needed Summer. The Direwolf has been their source of protection since the Wildling attack below the Wall. Let alone Summer catching some game now and then for them. Meera sighed as she stood up.

"Can you remember where the cage was?" she asked.

Bran paused, trying to remember, "The east side of the Keep."

Meera nodded, heading out. "If I'm not back soon, we'll meet—"

The blunt handle of a sword made contact into her face knocking her unconscious. Four more mutineers appeared surrounding the small party of children. As the one who attacks, Meera grabbed hold of her. Three went over to Hodor, pinning him down and shackling him, while the last one grabbed Jojen and Bran. More mutineers came in, dragging the group back to the keep. Although Rast and four others separated Hodor from the others, wanting to play a game.

The three were dragged into the Keep, where Karl sat on a makeshift throne staring at the prisoners. Meera and Jojen were forced on their knees, while Bran slumped to the ground. Karl could tell the boy was a cripple and told his man to help him up. The mutineer nodded, leaning Bran onto a post.

Karl stood up, inspecting the intruders. He came over to Bran first. At first glance, it appeared the boy was a wildling. However, as he knelt down, looking past the fur coat, he noticed a fine leather jerkin. One craftily made, if not expensive.

"This is nice," Karl murmured, touching the collar. "Fine leather. You're no wildling. Important. Highborn. Who are you?"

Bran stared at him, not going to answer.

Karl stood up and smacked Bran across the face hard. The impact caused the boy's bottom lip to split. Bran grunted, feeling the sting on his right cheek and blood filling his mouth.

"You see, where I come from, a commoner like me slaps a little lord like you, I'd lose my right hand," Karl warned, then glanced at the other two. "But we're a long way from home, aren't we?

And the two of you, fancy-looking folks north of the Wall creeping through the woods." He knelt into Jojen's face, "Isn't that a bit off?" he then focused on Meera touching her hair, "I like your curly hair. My mom had curls like that. Beautiful brown curls. Why'd you drag a crippled boy all the way up here?"

Meera glared at him but didn't answer. He shoved her head, trying to figure out the odd situation.

"See you haven't played this game before." Karl murmured. "A highborn hostage, that's valuable. But three of them, that's a lot of mouths to feed."

Just as Karl drew his dagger, Jojen collapsed on the ground having a seizer. Foam was forming inside his mouth while his body convulsed. Meera rushed to help her brother.

"What the fuck's wrong with him?" Rast asked as he entered the Keep.

"Come here," Karl growled, grabbing Meera.

She cried out in pain, "Please. Please, let me help him."

"Who are you?" Karl demanded to have the dagger pressed against her throat.

"Please," Meera begged.

"Who are you?"

Bran was not able to handle this. Knowing Jojen needs Meera blurted out, "I'm Brandon Stark!"

Karl's dark eyes stared at Bran.

"I'm Brandon Stark of Winterfell," Bran repeated again.

Rast came over, glancing at the boy, "It's Jon Snow's brother."

As he could see the resemblance through the eyes and hair.

Karl let go of Meera. She rushed over, taking her leather strap out and placed it in Jojen's mouth so he wouldn't bite his tongue off. She placed him on his side, rubbing his back to sooth Jojen.

The men ignored her, looking at Bran.

"And I thought this was gonna be another boring day," Karl murmured, sheathing his dagger.

Bran bowed his head, knowing he has put everyone at risk.

* * *

**I know this is a dark chapter. Sorry about that. This chapter is more about the White Walkers, and how I interpret their origin story. The Night's King (the 13th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch) is from the books. **

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


	14. Chapter 13: Desertion

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

* * *

**Chapter 13: Desertion**

_Craster's Keep_

It was risky to spy on the Mutineers in the daylight. The men who volunteer to go on the mission with Jon were not good with stealth. Jon considered ongoing, except, Grenn stopped him saying he was recognizable. It was true, Jon, Edd, and Grenn were too identifiable. If they go into the Keep, the traitors will kill them. So, it had to be someone else. Edd and Grenn said there were twelve of them. Both men felt guilty in abandoning the women for this long. Better now than never. Let alone, to avenge Jeor Mormont.

Locke volunteered. He was still going by his alias of a game's warden in the Stormlands. Game warden means they have to have stealth since they hunt for a living. Little did the Men of the Night's Watch know that Locke had other motives. At first, he thought about killing Jon as Ramsay had asked him to do. But, the past few weeks, Locke decided not to. Not with the Wilding problems happening. No doubt, a wildling can finish the job. So, his main focus is Brandon and Rickon Stark. Or in this case, Brandon, since eavesdropping on the conversation of Samwell spotting the cripple boy. If what the two say is true, then Brandon Stark would be at Craster's.

Ever so carefully, Locke inspected the area and did surveillance. It was still early, the crack of dawn. So far, there were only six people out. Two being the mutineers wandering about while four women were tending the animals. Locke guessed the majority of the mutineers were in the central Keep, leaving the smaller buildings to be the women's shelter and supplies. Carefully, Lock scavenged the area until spotting one building. A guard walked away from it while saying:

"Be quiet."

Locke checked the area before bumping into a lantern as he made his way across. He hunched low, lifting the tarp ever so slightly to see what was inside. A guard was placed for this hut. Therefore, there must be something valuable or essential inside. And what he saw confirmed that. There were four people inside. Two boys, one girl, and a humongous man. All were tied to several posts. The boy Locke had a better view of, was no doubt Brandon Stark. While everyone was hunched, and legs bend to keep warm, the one boy had his legs out. Also, he had dark hair and eyes, just like Jon.

Bran paused for he thought he heard rattling. He glanced over his shoulder to the main entrance of the shed to find no one was there. The only thing he saw was the lantern swaying in the wind. But for a second, he felt like he was being watched. Leaning some, he noticed fresh footprints. The guard did leave a moment ago. However, these footprints were heading back to the forest.

Many thoughts stirred in Bran's head. Was it one of the younger girls? Another wilding? Or could it be Night's Watch. Uncle Benjen says the Night's Watch never allows deserters to live. It may take time to track a desert, in the end, heads till fall.

A cough caught his attention.

All eyes turned to Jojen. The greenseer was sickly pale. He needed food and water. Most importantly, medicine. Meera had packed herbs to make tea for coughing, however, the mutineers won't allow her to give it to her brother. The only time Meera wasn't tied up, is when Jojen is having a seizure.

"You need water," Meera mumbled.

"It doesn't matter," Jojen said quietly.

"Of course, it matters," Meera disagreed.

Jojen shook his head, "You mustn't let anything stop you."

Bran raised his tied-up hands, "They already have stopped me."

"No," Jojen said, his eyes wandering about. "You're not here."

He had a vision, "You're far from here."

"What does that mean?" Meera asked.

In the vision, Jojen could see a frozen lake with a hill. On top of the hill was a weirwood tree with ravens and crows perched on it. Surrounding the weirwood were sacred stones. Four he could see. The sun was rising as it was in Craster's keep. Bran, who sat in front of him, was still oblivious in what is going on behind him. Unaware of the tranquil scenery.

"At the hill," Jojen answered. "A great weirwood tree."

"You've seen it, too?" Bran asked. He has had dreams in the past few years. On occasion, he saw a weirwood tree on a hill.

"Meera and I, even Hodor, we're only here to guide you," Jojen answered, seeing the day turn into night. "He's waiting for you. We have to find it. You have to make it."

"We will," Bran promised.

"This – this isn't the end," Jojen said, as the vision stopped. "Not for you. Not yet."

"How…will we know the end?" Meera asked.

The answer came to Jojen as he stared at his hand. His right hand was on fire. There was no heat, only the illusion of warm dancing along his skin. Along with tapping on his chest where his vital organs would be. Jojen focused his attention on the burning hand, knowing his fate.

"You'll know," he mumbled his answer.

That is when Jojen felt warmth in his hand. He glanced down, seeing his hand was on fire. This did not bother him since he knew it was an illusion from the vision. None of his friends were on fire; only he was.

**.o0o.**

_The Haunted Forest_

Locke made his way back to the camp where the other volunteers were. A fog has seeped its way, masking the campsite. Jon was cleaning Longclaw when the newest member returned.

"Brothers," Locke greeted.

"You do move quiet," Jon commented.

The volunteers gathered around, "How many?"

"Eleven men," Locke reported. "Most of them already drunk. No guards posted. They don't seem to have a care in the world. We'll carve them up like walnut pie."

"Karl was the top paid cutthroat in Flea Bottom." Grenn reminded. "I've seen what he can do with a knife."

"Have you seen what I can do with a knife?" Locke challenged.

Grenn chuckled, remembering the example Locke made, "Not yet."

"There's a hut on the west side of the keep. We should steer clear of it," Locke added.

"Why?" Jon asked.

"They've got some hounds chained up inside," Locke lied. "Closer we can get without the dogs sniffing us, the better."

Jon looked at Edd and Grenn, who nodded. All the remaining hounds that survived were under Karl's control. Grenn gazed up to the sky.

"New moon tonight," Grenn announced.

Jon sighed, looking at his men, "Get some rest. We move at sundown."

The men nodded as they went back to the camp to rest. Unaware that Locke has lied to them about the hut. The man simply smiled to himself, thinking about the Keep and crest.

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

Something did not feel right. I felt a chill inside my bones and a throbbing headache. All-day, there was this pounding like somebody already struck me in the head. We were all hidden in a forest. I stayed away from the others, hoping for some privacy. In the end, the headache continued. Something did not feel right. The only time I felt like this was when Skadi got hurt.

Fearing the worse, I went over to Ygritte.

"I need your help," I told her.

She stopped trimming the shaft and looked at me, "What for?"

"I need to check on Skadi," I told her quietly. "Something doesn't feel right."

I then glanced at the Thenns. I don't trust leaving my body alone when a Thenn is nearby. I have more trust leaving my body in Tormund's care than a Thenn. Especially when Styr is here. He was a Magnar, and I am a Chieftain's daughter. One union Fenrir will disapprove of.

Ygritte nodded in understanding. As we watched, the Thenns gathered around their fire with their latest meal. She got up, securing her things before we searched for an excellent place to be alone. We were still nearby our comrades, but at a distance. Once situated, I sat down against a tree with Dark Sister on my lap. Ygritte sat down as well, making sure we were safe.

Knowing I was in good hands, I took a deep breath and warged. I connected to Skadi, although she was unconscious. I dug deeper into her memories, wondering why she was in pain until seeing the cause. The black direwolf had interrupted Craster's sacrifice and encounter a White Walker. The White Walker was more focused on collecting the baby, that he disregarded Skadi rather than finishing her off. My poor familiar.

As I went deeper into her memories, I noticed something. A pale direwolf in the cage. Apparently, Skadi has been trying to free the direwolf, but couldn't. Now knowing the cause of Skadi's frustration, I sighed in relief. Although the Direwolf in the cage had me concerned. Is Mance nearby and sent a Dire and his familiar to scout the area only to be caught? If that is so, I need to help my fellow comrade.

It would be dusk before Skadi finally woke up. She smiled as her spirit nudged against my own. Together our minds were synced. We got up and headed back to where the direwolf was trapped in. Skadi took control of her body while I tagged along, observing everything. When we arrived, the white direwolf was still in the cage. However, he was not alone. There was whimpering. I took control of Skadi, making my way over to a pit to see a silver and smokey fur direwolf. Skadi was confused since this direwolf was not here before.

_You got to be kidding me_. I thought. _There are two Dires captured?_

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out a way to free the direwolves so we could save the Dires. I walked around the cage, trying to find any weak spots. When I noticed a few pillars being thinner than others. I hunched down and began to dig. It took some time until I reached the bottom of the post exposing it. With the pillar section not having the ground for support, I apologized to Skadi and began to bang on the cage. Over and over, until the wood started to weaken. The white direwolf noticed this and would bang against the section between each strike. Soon, the wood crack and a few more attempts the wooden beams split. We each grabbed the pieces biting them out to make a hole large enough for the direwolf to escape.

It was a snug fit, yet it was enough for him to get out. Staring at the direwolf, he seemed to be at least three years old. Then again, he could also be the runt of the litter. Anyway, we rushed over to the pit, where the second direwolf was. Looking around to see if any logs about to drag over. The gods were good, seeing one that the white wolf and I worked together in nudging it over, making sure it fell horizontal and an angle for the silver wolf to climb up.

Suddenly there was a sound of chaos. A fight was happening nearby. All the direwolves looked at one another, not sure what was going on. We were about to join the fight when a man came rushing in. A crow by the looks of it, since his clothes were black. The Crow who I recognized was Rast from spying months ago stared at us in shock.

"Fuck," Rast gasped.

The White Direwolf growled, charging at Rast tackling him down and biting his head off. And there is a reason why you should never cage a wolf. They hold grudges far more terrible than a human. When the White direwolf was done, we headed towards the Keep to join the battle. Only to realize it was Craster's.

**.o0o.**

_Moments Earlier…_

_Craster's Keep_

Karl Tanner came up with a plan to figure out why three little nobles were on the wrong side of the Wall. One he and two of his brothers were happy to enjoy. So, leaving the Keep, they headed towards the hut with their wicked scheme.

"I've always liked a girl with curls. A touch of class." Karl said gleefully. "You take whatever's left."

The two mutineers chuckled.

They arrived in the hut. The four captives looked at them, confused. Wondering why they were here since they were not holding bowls of food. Meera got a sick feeling, seeing Karl having the same look one of the Mutineers had when spying on the keep.

"Get her up," Karl ordered.

The two mutineers came over, untying the restraints and forcing her up. Realizing what was about to happen, she tried to break free from their grasp. However, the two men were stronger. Bran was pleading to Karl to stop it. Hodor shouting out as well, except, no one understood him. Jojen's eyes widen, not expecting it when all of a sudden, a vision came to him. He saw death, fire, and snow.

The two mutineers forced Meera's bound hands onto a hook. She cried out from the sharp angle her arms were in. She thrashed, trying to break free but couldn't. She was a snared rabbit.

"Please, get off her!" Bran yelled.

"Hodor! Hodor!"

"Please! Please, leave her alone!"

The men tried to take her boots off.

"Please, stop. Stop!" Bran begged. "What are you doing? Leave her alone!"

"Hodor. Hodor."

Karl came over, "Shh, shh, shh."

Meera gasped, trying to catch her breath as the two men stepped away. Karl cradle her face looking into her brown eyes. Brown eyes were terrified. Meera did not want to be raped. Like any noblewoman, she was saving her virtue until marriage. Any premarital would ruin her reputation. Let alone, she did not want to sire a bastard out of rape.

"You've got pretty hair, don't you?" Karl murmured. "Now what is a pretty little highborn girl like you doing out here in the deep, dark woods, eh?"

Meera panted still traumatized in what just happen.

"You left your daddy's castle looking for trouble, didn't you?" Karl continued, feeling her curly hair. "No dresses for you. You like it rough, don't you? You like it in the gutter, don't you?"

"If you let my sister go, I can help you," Jojen interrupted calmly.

Karl turned slightly, giving a demeanor look, "You can help me?"

"I can," Jojen confirmed.

Karl looked at him again, "And how you gonna do that?"

"I have the sight. I can see things," Jojen explained.

"That's very helpful," Karl replied doubtfully as if he heard something stupid.

"Things that haven't happened yet," Jojen clarified.

Karl shrugged, then paused about it. Since Mormont's expedition, he has encounter wights and white walkers. He has heard about Wildling tribes that mind control animals. So, what is the possibility of encountering a seer? He remembers the stories about magical people long ago. Many thought they went extinct. And now, a boy is saying he can see the future.

"What a fine thing," Karl said, as he knelt in front of Jojen. "A fine thing. Have you seen what I'm gonna do to your sister? Have you seen what they're going to do to your sister?"

Jojen kept a neutral face, "No."

Karl smirked, drawing a dagger, "Don't close your eyes."

The Cutthroat stood up, making his way towards Meera. Ready to use his daggers to cut open her furs and begin his sadistic fun.

"I saw you die tonight," Jojen said.

Karl stopped in his place.

"I saw your body burn," Jojen happily said. "I saw the snow fall and bury your bones."

Karl turned around with a scowled look. Ready to cut that smug look on Jojen's face. Just as he was about to stab the boy, a sound of chaos could be heard as a mutineer outside yelled.

"To arms!"

Rast burst into the hut, "They're here, the Night's Watch."

Karl growled as he ran out.

Meera sighed in relief for help was on the way.

**.o0o.**

Jon leads the Night's Watch into Craster's Keep from the east side. They charged in, using the new moon to cover them. The gods were on their side, as the mutineers panicked trying to find their weapons while the Night's Watch came in for the attack.

One came after Jon, who deflected it with Longclaw. Not wanting to deal with Jon, the mutineer rushed to the others. Leaving Jon exposed for a moment, when another mutineer came for the attack. The Night's watch and mutineers fought each other, while the women ran away. Screams could be heard in the heated battle.

Meanwhile, Locke scurried through the chaos making his way towards the west side where the hut was. He killed two on the way but managed to reach his destination. Barging into the hut, finding the girl strung up.

"Rescue party is here, lads," Locke announced, sheathing his sword. "Lady."

It would have been a courteously to free Meera first. However, Locke went straight for Bran. He took out his dagger and started cutting the ropes that held the boy to a pillar.

"Is Jon with you?" Bran asked.

"Aye. I'll take you to him," Locke answered, cutting the ropes. "You're Brandon Stark?"

All three of the children's eyes widen. How could Locke know he was Brandon Stark? So far, the only people who knew about the heir of Winterfell going beyond the Wall were them, Osha, Rickon, Samwell, Gilly, and the wildling Imogen. It would be understandable if Samwell told Jon, but Jon wouldn't have openly told people his younger brother was out in the wild. Also, Bran knew his mistake about asking if Jon was here. It would lead to more questions.

Bran looked ahead, ignoring Locke's question. The man raised a brow, using his dagger to slice Bran's leg. The boy cursed for his paralyzes, as he did not wince since he did not feel the pain of being cut. Only the feeling of pressure. Meera gasped when seeing this.

"Hodor. Hodor. Hodor!" Hodor cried out, worried for his lord.

"The little crippled lord. We're going for a ride, boy," Locke said.

"Jon! Jon!" Bran called out for his older brother.

Lock covered Bran's mouth, "Keep talking, and I'll cut your friends' throats."

Hodor started moving back and forth, trying to gain attention from the Night's Watch. Banging his body against the wall.

"Starting with the idiot. Do you hear?" Locke threatened. "Do you hear?"

Bran could only nod.

Hodor continued to shout while Bran stared at Jojen having a plan. Jojen saw the plan in a vision and nodded. Bran nodded back, letting Locke finish untying Bran except for his hands. Not wasting time, the Cutthroat lifted Bran and flung him over his shoulder. He needed to escape now before the Night's Watch notices he's gone. There would be a half a day's trip to Castle Black before sneaking off back to the Boltons, where a nice reward is waiting for him. Both leave with ease.

Locke was utterly unaware of Bran's abilities, as the boy warged into Hodor. Hodor panic soon stopped, as his blue eyes rolled to the back of his head and return brown. Bran was in control, manipulating Hodor's body to move back and forth to break free from the chains. It several tries until the chain snapped.

The battle continued outside. So far, Jon had killed three men.

Back to Locke, he continued to run through the westside. A horse was waiting nearby, making the escape much more accessible. He was about a hundred feet away from the Keep when a growl caught his attention. Looking up, he saw a massive black direwolf staring at him with silver eyes.

"Bloody hell," Locke said.

Before Locke could react, Bran through Hodor caught up, yanking his body from the man. Locke stumbled, grabbing his dagger, except Hodor grabbed him around the neck, lifting him into the air. Locke tried to fight back, yet Hodor/Bran used their other hand to grab Locke's head and yanked it to the side roughly. Snapping, if not cracking the neck, killing Locke instantly. Hodor/Bran dropped the body.

Suddenly Hodor was pinned down on the ground by the massive direwolf. Brown eyes widen in shock, until seeing the silver eyes. Before he could react, the spirit inside the direwolf warged into Hodor's mind.

Bran was confused, finding himself back in Winterfell. He stood in the courtyard. Hodor was there, only he seemed more interested in the horses by the stable. Unaware of the change. Bran utterly confused turned around to see Imogen again. She stood there in a grey gown with a black vest. Her hair was down, yet it did not cover the wolf tattoo on her neck. Her silver eyes were livid with anger.

"Imogen?" he asked.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Imogen yelled.

"I…I…" Bran didn't know what to say.

"Did you not head my warning, the true North is not safe for a cripple boy," she yelled.

"But I have to see the Three-Eyed Raven," Bran explained. "My friend says he can help me."

"He won't help you. The only thing that damn bird wants is your abilities and body." Imogen said. "You will be nothing but a vessel to him."

"What do you mean?" Bran asked.

Imogen took a deep breath. Her body was still shaking. It reminded him of the deserter, who was traumatized with fear. The man talked about seeing the White Walkers. What has Imogen seen from the Three-Eyed Raven that would leave such a physical effect on her? Why does she not want him to see the Raven?

"Please, help me understand?" Bran begged.

Imogen opens her eyes, gaining some control of her emotions, "All he wants is a vessel. You will become his vessel. If you dare take this path, know that power will not solve everything. Knowledge and possibilities won't be enough to satisfy a damned life. Especially when you shall be in isolation from the world. We are nothing but pawns to him."

Bran took her words in. Jojen says the Three-Eyed Raven can help them. And yet, here is someone who has encountered the Three-Eyed Raven saying he shouldn't. He doesn't know who to trust.

"Then why is he calling out to me?" Bran asked.

"What is your last name?" she asked.

"Stark," he answered.

Imogen took a deep breath, "Because you come from an ancient line of kings, down to the First King. Let alone wargs are in your blood."

"How do you know this?" he asked, wanting to know more.

Imogen opens her mouth to speak when there is a caw of a raven. They turned their attention to the raven, perched on a fence looking at them with three eyes. Imogen scowled, lifting her hand up and swatting the creature away. If vanished, like smoke disappearing into ashes.

"Remember my mark, and the words I told you. If you follow this path, you will be lost. It will be a fate far worse than death." She said.

"Imogen wait," he pleaded.

"No time, your friends are waiting," Imogen said, discounting the illusion.

Bran had returned to his body. The black direwolf, ran away heading towards the riot that was happening. Summer rushed over to Bran, trying to help his master. Bran panted, he did not understand the confrontation between Imogen and the Three-Eyed Raven. Although, now is not the time to think about it.

"Hodor," Bran panted.

Hodor blinked a few times, wonder how he got out, let alone seeing a dead Locke.

"Hodor, get his knife. Cut me loose," Bran commanded.

Hodor stared at his hand, seeing blood.

"Hodor, get his knife," Bran said again.

"Hodor," Hodor panicked.

"Cut me loose, Hodor," Bran nearly shouted.

Immediately, Hodor snapped out of it, grabbing Locke's dagger and rushed to help his young lord.

"Jojen and Meera, free them," Bran ordered.

Hodor nodded, rushing back to the hut.

"Jon," Bran mumbled, forcing his body around to see his brother in the fight.

Bran dragged himself to get closer. He needed his brother's help. Not seeing Jon since King Robert's visit to Winterfell. "Jon!"

A moment later, Jojen and Meera came over to him.

Jojen rushed to Bran's side, "If he sees you, he won't let you go north."

"He's my brother," Bran countered.

"And wants to protect you," Jojen added. "He'll take you back to Castle Black. You have to decide."

Bran knew Jojen was right. Although he did not know who to believe. If only he could have a few days to think about it. But now is not the time to think. He only has a moment to choose to go back with Jon to Castle Black or continue onward to the Three-Eyed Raven. Why does Imogen hold such hostility towards the Raven? Most importantly, what will happen to him once he encounters the Three-Eyed Raven?

"Do you want to find the Three-Eyed Raven?" Jojen asked.

The young lord looked up, still watching Jon fight. Summer gave a whimper, nudging his master to provide comfort. Regretting his decision, he called out, "Hodor."

"Hodor," Bran replied. "We need to go."

All three nodded as they helped Bran up.

**.o0o.**

Grenn saw Jon reach the Central Keep. He tried to get over to help Jon when two men attack him. Grenn wanted to fight them off, but he was outnumbered. Edd was as well. They were being pinned, as the mutineers tried to force their blades to gut them open. Little did the mutineers know a black direwolf was standing behind them. It was massive, larger than Ghost. Grenn and Edd pushed the mutineers back. Just as the traitors were going to lunge forward, the direwolf tackled the three, chomping and biting away.

Grenn and Edd panted, trying to catch their breath. Edd, however, quickly recognized the black direwolf. He could feel the scar on his back-shoulder throb from memory when he encountered the Wildling Huntress. He looked around wondering if the Wildling Huntress was here. Only two more mutineers came in for the attack.

**.o0o.**

Jon enters Craster's Keep, where Karl Tanner had pinned one of his brothers and cut his throat. Karl smirked at Jon, finally meeting the Bastard of Winterfell. He kicked the body down, drawing both of his daggers.

"Lord Snow," Karl said with a bow. "Are you bringing me back for trial?" he clashed the daggers together. "We had a good thing here. We were free men. You'll never be free. You'll never know what that's like."

Jon made the first move and swung Longclaw overhead. Karl lifted his daggers, blocking it, and shoved it aside. Jon attacked again, except Karl swirled around him, adding a shove to it. Karl was quick and did not fight with honor. The fire pit separated them, as the traitor smiled deviously. When they got to the other side, Karl attacked. Jon tried his best to block it, keeping his distance. Yet Karl kept slashing rapidly towards him. Their blades clash over and over until Karl elbowed Jon.

"You learn how to fight in a castle?" Karl taunted.

Jon attacked, which Karl jumped back, blocking with his daggers. He dodged again, swinging his arm around, stabbing Jon in the thigh. Jon cried out and groaned, staring at Karl.

"Some old man teaches you how to stand, how to parry?"

Jon grabbed Karl's hand, forcing the dagger out of him with a groan, and parry forward. Once more, Karl dodged it, swinging around slashing the short blades at Jon. Jabbing now and then for Jon's chest.

"How to fight with honor?"

Their blade cross, Jon having Longclaw in a defensive hold while Karl was on top, adding his weight to force the boy down. Jon threw a punch, causing Karl to stumbled back. The duel continued each a near match. It wasn't long when Jon got behind Karl, securing him in a tight hold. Karl thrust his body, forcing Jon off him. Immediately the two recovers as their blades clash into a standstill.

"You know what's wrong with honor?"

Karl spat in Jon's face, followed by a kick in the leg knocking him down. Before Jon could grab his sword, Karl stepped over his hand. Jon looked up, wide-eyed, thinking this was the end. Just as the traitor was about to give the final blow, Sissy, who had been hiding, grabbed a discarded knife and lunged in, stabbing Karl in the back. Karl turned around, facing his whore while grabbing the knife out of his back.

"You," he growled.

Sissy stumbled back, tripping over a stool. Karl yanked the knife out of his shoulder, stepping forward for the final kill. The moment Karl was in arm's reach, he lunged only to stop the moment Longclaw pierced him from behind and all the way through his mouth. Jon had taken the distraction to stand up and kill Karl when he was most vulnerable. Yanking Longclaw back, Jon kicked Karl down beside Sissy. The young woman panted, staring wide-eyed at her rapist, before looking up at Jon.

Jon panted, limping over and knelt before Sissy to see her condition, "Are you all right?"

Sissy nodded, unable to speak.

"Come with me," Jon said. "Come on."

She was hesitant at first. But seeing that Jon killed her tormenter, she nodded, accepting the hand to help her up. Jon leaned over Sissy, yet made sure he did not violate her space as they came outside. Grenn had killed the last of the mutineers while the brothers were dragging the dead back. Edd pulling up Locke's corps with a disfigure neck. Sissy saw Morag and her sisters, rushing over to them.

"We lost four brothers?" Jon asked.

"Five," Edd said, dropping Locke's body.

"What the seven hells could do that to a man?" Grenn gawked at the neck wound.

Jon shrugged his shoulders, "I count ten dead mutineers."

"Locke said there were eleven of them since twelve's head is on the spike." Grenn said.

All three men looked at the bodies, noticing one familiar traitor was missing.

"Where's Rast?" Edd asked.

A growl could be heard as they looked at the gate where the black direwolf stood. Jon tensed, recognizing Skadi from anywhere. And by the looks of the direwolf's eyes, she was warg by Imogen. Jon drew Longclaw, except Grenn stopped her.

"No, he helped us," Grenn said.

Jon was baffled by this. Imogen served the Wildlings, why would she help them. Skadi stepped aside where Ghost appeared, blood covering his jaw and chest, yet appeared perfectly fine.

"Where in the seven hells?" Jon asked aloud in disbelief. "Come here."

Ghost rushed over to his master, panting happily. Jon knelt down, seeing how much Ghost has grown. The albino direwolf was larger than the average wolf. Ghost whined, in which Jon petted his familiar's neck happily.

"I missed you, boy." Jon murmured.

Edd came over, "What should we do with this lot?"

All eyes turned to Crater's wives. Skadi/Imogen saw this and rushed over separating the Night's Watch from the women. She gave the Crows a warning growl not to come near. The women gasped, not expecting it, then comprehend a Dire was controlling the direwolf trying to protect them.

Jon stood up with caution. Imogen was in control, and the last time they saw each other was during his betrayal. He wasn't close to Imogen since the Dire mainly talked with Ygritte, Orell, and Tormund. Any communication they did have, Ygritte was there. So carefully, he stood in front of Imogen, yet his attention was on Morag.

"It's not safe for you here on your own," Jon said. "Mance Rayder has an army heading this way, and there's worse out there than Mance. Come with us to Castle Black. We can find you work. Keep you safe."

"Meaning all respect, Ser Crow, Craster beat us and worse," Morag said. "Your brother crows beat us and worse. We'll find our own way."

Jon was dumbfounded by this, "You want to stay here in Craster's Keep."

Morag rested her hand in Skadi's fur for comfort, before spitting at the Keep, "Burn it to the ground and all the dead with it."

Burn the pain and agony.

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

I stared at the burning Keep where all the dead were kept inside. I stood between the women and the remaining Crows. This was filled with so much pain. I've seen the past in what Craster did to his wives/daughters. How the other Free Folk hadn't stepped in to end this is beyond me. Or better yet, come in the steal the girls to be their wives. No doubt, these women would prefer a husband to save them from this nightmare.

Jon came over, standing beside me. I gave him a warning growl.

"I know you don't like me," he said.

_You think,_ I thought.

"All I ask, if you can help these women find a safer place," he said. "There's a village twenty miles from here. It's abandoned, but it should be a start for them. Will Mance force them?"

I shook my head no. Mance held honor, and he would not force women to join his cause.

"I ask you not to do this, you and the rest of the wildlings won't make it," he said.

I gave Jon a growl. How can he have asked me that? He knows what lies beyond the Wall. My tribe and people are in danger. The only place they can be safe is south of the Wall. The only place where the Night King's curse does not affect them when death arrives. He knows what they are. He has seen the Other before. How can he ask me to stand down?

"We will come up with something, but violence is never the answer," he said.

I shook my head.

"You should leave," Morag said, resting a hand on my mane. "Before she bites your head off."

Jon opened his mouth to speak, yet Edd came over, resting a hand on Jon's shoulder. "We better go before Thorne has our hide."

The Crow sighed in defeat, giving one last pleading look before walking away with his brothers. The women watched the seven men depart, returning back to Castle Black. This will be the only time I will help the Crows. I helped to protect the women, nothing more. Although, I wish it was two Dires who were being held captive and not Jon and Bran.

"They will understand when death is near," Morag murmured.

I could only nod in agreement.

"You have stayed too long in your wolf, return to your body," Morag advised.

She was right, it is dangerous to say in an animal's body for too long. Even though I was a strong Warg, the temptation was there.

"Will your wolf guide us?" Morag asked.

I nodded, knowing Skadi can lend her services as protection until they reach the abandoned village.

"Thank you," Morag said.

I nodded once more, giving a howl. I gave Skadi instructions to help the women evacuate the area and protect them until reaching the village. It won't be long before Mance, and our armies arrived. With nothing else to say, I returned to my body.

I open my eyes with a gasp. A small fire was in front of me where Ygritte was roasting a rabbit. She looked up after hearing my gasp and gave a small smile.

"Was wondering when you'd return," Ygritte said. "How's Skadi doin'?"

I tried to speak, then closed my mouth, not sure how to tell her.

"Well, what is it?" she asked.

I glanced around, making sure there is no one, especially the Thenns, were near to hear.

"I encountered Jon," I answered.

Ygritte's face dropped as she scooted closer. "And…"

"He's still alive…"

I can't hold any secrets and whispered to her what happened.

* * *

**Hey guys thank you so much for reading my story.**

**Also, I'm posting a short story called_ Dothraki Moon Festival_. If you are a _Sister's Keeper_ fan, take a look at it. **

**Once more thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	15. Chapter 14: Closing In

**Warg Maiden**

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Closing In**

_Jon's POV_

After a few days of travel, what remains of the Night's Watch returned to Castle Black. The moment they broke through the Haunted Forest into the field, did the horns blow once to announce the rangers return. Jon was pleased with how the mission went. Karl Tanner and his mutineers were gone. The risk of Castle Black's secrets won't be exposed to Mance Rayder.

However, Jon kept thinking about Imogen. In the beginning, he thought a warg's familiar has to be nearby in order to connect. Skadi was hundreds of miles away, and yet, Imogen can warg from such a distance. Ygritte mentioned that Imogen was no ordinary Warg. Now he understands why. Both had different causes in going to Craster's Keep. Yet the two worked together. The mutineers are dead, and the women are safe. But after that night, they are now enemies again.

Jon knew he needed to defeat Imogen. Mance, Tormund, and Imogen are a threat. The leader, the follower, and the mage. A chance to talk about reason was no more. The Wildlings are determined to head south. He understands why. They want to get away from the White Walkers and prevent the curse from taking their dead as anyone else. Except, some tribes can't be trusted past the Wall. There's got to be another way.

They are all wasting time from a genuine threat. Yet Jon understood why the Wildings are heading south. They believe the magic of the Wall can separate the living from the dead. There were three access points: Castle Black, The Shadow Tower, and lastly, Eastwatch-by-the-sea. The Wildings is determined to travel through Castle Black. So, Jon needs to convince the Council to seal the tunnel. It will buy them time to figure out a way to do this peacefully.

Anyway, they entered through the lone tunnel. Once on the other side, many of the men greeted them with open arms.

"Rangers returning!"

"Greetings."

"Didn't think I'd see you again." Sam said as he came over, giving a brotherly hug to Jon.

Jon accepted it.

"Welcome back, brother," Olly said, shaking his hand.

Jon shook it back.

Alliser and Janos came out, taking their position at the bailey steps.

"Lord Snow," Alliser called out.

Everyone turned to the temporary leader, wondering what insult he was going to bring.

Ghost gave a bark.

Alliser turned his attention to the direwolf. No longer was the beast the size of a normal wolf. Jeor Mormont may have allowed Ghost to wonder about the castle. But Alliser won't enable it.

"This is no place for wild beasts." Alliser said. "Lock him away, or I'll let Hobb throw him in tonight's stew."

Jon holding his tongue, walked over to Ghost, leading him to the stables. After everything, Alliser is still not seeing the more significant threat. Then again, Jon assumed the mutineers had killed him.

"Come on, Ghost," Jon muttered.

Ghost followed along.

**.o0o.**

During dinner, Jon stood up to face the Council.

"Mance's army was closing in on Craster's Keep when we left. We saw their campfires from Osric's Hill. They'll reach the Wall before the next full moon," Jon reported.

"I'm surprised you didn't ride over and say hello," Janos taunted. "The King-beyond-the-Wall is your old friend, isn't he?"

"We need to prepare," Jon warned.

"We've been preparing," Alliser said.

"We should seal the tunnel," Jon advised.

This disturbed the men as they debated about it. There were pros and cons to such an idea. However, they get their meats beyond the wall. They check on the wildlings. How can they be Men of the Night's Watch, if there is no tunnel to man the Wall? What purpose would they have?

"Plug it with rocks and ice," Jon continued. "Flood it and let it freeze."

"And how would we range the north?" Alliser asked.

"We wouldn't," Jon answered.

"Coward!" one man yelled.

"You would cut off our legs, pluck out our eyes, leave us cowering behind the Wall, hoping for the storm to pass?" Alliser sneered.

"We can't defend the gates against 100,000 men," Grenn countered.

"This castle has stood for thousands of years," Alliser said. "The Night's Watch has defended her for thousands of years. And in all those centuries, we have never sealed the tunnel."

"Have you ever seen a giant, Ser Alliser?" Jon asked. "Or encounter a warg?"

Alliser did not answer.

"I have," Jon continued. "The tunnel's gate won't stop them."

"The bars on those gates are four inches thick. Cold-rolled steel."

"They won't stop them."

"Remind me which orders you belong to, Lord Snow."

"The stewards."

"Are the stewards responsible for maintaining the tunnel?"

"No."

"Who would that be?"

Jon sighed, "The builders."

"Ah, the builders," Alliser repeated, then turned to his right. "First Builder Yarwyck, Lord Snow here recommends sealing the tunnel, leaving us unable to carry out our duties as sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. Do you agree?"

All eyes were on Yarwyck. The man thought about it. Jon prayed Yarwyck being a man of reason, would agree.

"No," Yarwyck answered.

Alliser nodded in approval, faced Jon saying, "Given your deep knowledge of the wildling army, Lord Snow, you and Tarly will take night duties atop of the Wall until the full moon."

Men who support Alliser cheered. Jon was about to step forward, except Sam grabbed his hand, preventing it. Why are they not understanding the threat? Probably because they never been Beyond the Wall. Only the surviving rangers understand the situation as they glare at Alliser on Jon's behalf. Alliser was never a ranger, he never went beyond the wall. He was only a master-at-arm. Training the recruits.

"Moving on," Alliser said. "First builder, we'll need one hundred barrels of pitch brought atop the Wall."

"Aye," Yarwyck agreed.

Jon sat down, slamming his fist against the table. Alliser degrades him, then takes credits to prepare for the wildlings strike. They were doomed.

**.o0o.**

Imogen's POV

I was eating a rabbit feeling famished for not eating the past few days. Warging too long can make a person lose their appetite. I savor the rabbit's natural flavor, enjoying the juicy meet. Ygritte chuckled as she bit into a leg. Our company were enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. It won't be too long now. It won't be too long to get our people south of the Wall.

That was when Tormund came over.

"How good is your warging?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?" I replied.

"I need you to find Mance and see what does he want now. We are getting tired of waiting." He said.

I sighed, I spent three days recovering from warging an entire day. Now Tormund wants me to warg for days to find our army and report to Mance. By the old gods, shoot me now.

"You know it's dangerous for me to be outside of my body for too long," I warned him.

"Don't worry, I'll watch over yer body," Tormund murmured.

"I trust Ygritte with my body," I muttered.

Ygritte burst out laughing, knowing that is true.

"Still, I need to know what to do." Tormund said.

I sighed, "I'll send Frigg to get a head start. In the morning, I'll warg to find Mance."

Tormund nodded in approval. He is only asking me this since I'm the only one who can warg into multiple creatures. If Fenrir is there, he and I can connect without violating the sacred laws to communicate. So, looking at Frigg, she came overtaking a few bites of rabbit meat before taking off to the true North. Orell, who was still with us, cawed following Frigg to make sure she makes it there.

Not long after, I went to bed to get some sleep. The exhaustion prevented dreams and visions. One I thank the Old Gods for. The vision dreams had a side effect on me. Although I can have visons from the Three-Eyed Raven, it takes its toll. For I was not a greenseer. I was thankful for Ygritte being there when these things happen. Usually, it has been Fenrir or Boudica when it happens.

When I wake, Ygritte and a few others guarded my body. Taking a deep breath, I warged, feeling my spirit leaving my vessel. In seconds I was staring through the eyes of Frigg. She was beyond the Wall. We were at Osric's Hill, where Mance's army was. Orell and I flew about searching for Mance.

We found him with some of the Chieftain has gathered around. I swooped down, landing on Fenrir's shoulder. He jumped, not expecting it,causing Mance to laugh.

"I was wondering when you'd show, Imogen," Mance said.

I nodded. Fenrir set me down on a pole facing everyone. Fenrir stared into my eyes, as I used my ability the Three-Eyed Raven taught me. If people looked at us, they would notice one of the eyes was a darker shade of grey instead of silver. We were connected.

"What news do you bring?" Mance asked.

I gave my answer to Fenris as he spoke, "About fifty Free Folk have made it over the Wall. Styr and Tormund have joined forces. They have raided a few villages, gainingsupplies and challenging the Crows. However,there has been some trouble. Jon is still a Crow, and escaped. He has killed five of their men. Orell included. He is still with them until he can no longer."

All eyes turned to Orell, who sat on the ten giving a caw.

Fenrir continued, he paused for a moment since he saw Bran. Yet he continued excluding the boy out of the conversation. "Imogen checked on Castle Black. There is barely over a hundred crows there. Not a thousand. There was an incident at Craster's where mutineers killed Jeor Mormont. Crows came in to kill the Mutineer. Imogen helped to protect the women. The Crows spared them, as the women took refuge in an abandoned town."

Mance nodded, "I'll send some people there to help them. They should be with their people. I assume Craster is dead."

I nodded through Frigg.

"Good, the damn bastard deserves it," Mance said. "Shame about Jeor Mormont, he was a good leader."

True, Mance spent his early years under Jeor Mormont. I've never encountered the man, only seeing him when spying. From what I could see, he was an honorable man. He cared for his little crows like a father and grandfather. Despite our different views on each side of the Wall, I would respect him.

"I'm assuming Tormund wants to know what's next?" Mance asked.

"He does," Fenrir said.

"Tell Tormund and Styr that they will lead their men to Mole's Town. Crows go there to fuck the whores and get supplies. This should get them Crows to come out of their nest. Once done there, keep heading to Castle Black. When they are in sight, take cover and wait for my signal." Mance ordered.

I hesitated, for Dires don't do raids. It took a lot of convincing to keep the Free Folk from killing the children and adolescents.

"What about women and children?" Fenrir asked on my behalf.

Mance looked at the Dire. He is aware of our customs in battle. Dires don't harm women and children. Spearwives if attacking, but not those who can't defend themselves. It was the honor of our ancestors who became White Hunters set after the Long Night.

"Kill the men, if any woman attacks kill them as well," Mance allowed. "Leave the children be."

I sighed in relief.

"I'll let you two talk for a bit," Mance said, walking away.

This time, I let Fenrir enter Frigg entirely. Changing the illusion to Lunar Haven. Our sacred land is hidden in the mountains with hot springs that warm the earth. This was how our people survive these seven thousand years. Protected from the other tribes. Our cultures different, near to those South of the Wall. We stood before each other in our traditional clothes, not furs. The same wolf that marks my neck was on his. A memory of who our ancestor was.

The first thing we did was exchange a hug.

"I'm glad to see you are safe, Imogen," Fenrir murmured.

"Same, Papa," I said.

"You worry for the boy," Fenrir noted.

"He does not understand the consequences ofhis actions," I said. "What the Three-Eyed Raven will do."

"Sometimes, we must learn the truth the hard way," he said.

I nodded as we pulled away.

"All that matters now is getting our people on the other side of the Wall," he said.

"Has Mum and the twins joined you?" I asked.

"They are making their way as we speak. Guiding those from Lunar Haven and Frost Fang," Fenrir said. "By the time they make it, we shall have control of Castle Black."

I nodded again.

Fenrir placed his hand on my shoulder, "The Lone Wolf dies."

"But the pack survives," I replied back.

"You can do this. Strong blood from my and your mothers lingers in your veins," he said. "I shall see you on the Full Moon."

He rested his forehead against my own, "Be strong, my she-wolf."

"Yes, Papa," I replied back.

With nothing else to say, we disconnected. I turned my attention to Orell, letting him know I was leaving. He nodded, I left Frigg's body, which Fenrir will feed her before she returns to me again. When I open my eyes, I was back south of the Wall. I gasped, the moment my soul returned to my body.

"Easy," Ygritte said, placing her hand on my shoulder.

I panted, taking deep breaths.

Tormund came over as he knelt before me.

"What news do you bring?" Tormund asked.

"Mance says to head east towards Mole's Towns. The Crows go there to mate with the women. Raid the town, but spare the children and women who don't attack." I said. "Afterward head to Castle Black to wait for the signal."

"Finally, some action," Tormund said. "Get some rest, we leave tomorrow."

I nodded, staring at Ygritte, who gave a reassuring smile. Even though I didn't tell Styr and Tormund about Jon, Mance and Fenrir know our traitor Crow was still alive. Hopefully, when we take Castle Black and open the tunnel, Jon will be dead by then.

What matters now is to get our people south of the Wall. The Wall holds magic, Bran the Builder, and the Children cast a spell that prevents White Walkers from crossing over. If we can save the population, then the curse won't affect us. Also, I need to get a hold of Joruman Horn. The Crow named Sam has it. That is my main goal. Get hold of the Horn and destroy it.

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**Hey Guys, sorry for the short Chapter. I just wanted to get a chapter up and have a scene where Imogen reports to Mance. I was asked what do the Dires dress as when they are not in furs. The Dires wear furs when they are out in artic areas. In the books, the Wildlings dress like everyone else in the North. So, my inspiration for the Dires, is by History Channels shows Vikings first season before they discovered other countries and territories. Along with Gaelic and Celtic fashion.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	16. Chapter 15: Mole's Town

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Mole's Town**

_Imogen's POV_

We arrived at the border of Mole's Town by mid-day. All throughout hiding amongst the tree lines. We watched as the Southerners live out their day not realizing the threat that lingers. Styr thought we should charge in right now. Attack when they least expect it. However, Tormund disagreed. This was not a village. This was a town. It was more populated than a simple village. They argued a bit until the Warg returned to his body.

"There are more women than men there, but half the town is asleep," the Warg said.

"We need a better advantage," Tormund muttered.

"Like what?" Styr challenged.

"Like…" Tormund paused as he thought about it until his eyes landed on me. "Someone on the inside."

"I am not warging," I told him.

"I didn't say anything about warging," Tormund said. "But last I checked, you don't wear the simple cloth."

All eyes were on me. I sighed knowing Tormund was not wrong. Under my furs was not a simple ragged smock. No, Dires still maintain our ancestor's customs during the age of the first men. I was the only Dire in the group. Sighing, I handed my things to Ygritte. I stripped off my weapons, follow by the furs top, boots and bottoms. Once the furs were off, I stood in my Dire attire. Wearing a leather patched tunic that went down to my midthigh fitted leggings. Around my neck was a torc made out of gold and silver strands with wolf heads at the end. My arms were exposed, so all could see the tattoos the Children of the Forest left me. I had a woven shirt, but since climbing south of the Wall, it felt much warmer than wearing layers.

"Well, it seems there is meat on you after all," Styr taunted.

"Watch it," I growled.

"Good thing we stole this from Old Man," Tormund said, going through the supplies to pull out a cloak.

I grabbed it, putting it on and draped it over my head to mask my hair, due to not having the time to groom it properly in weeks. Anyway, I took one of the stolen horses and headed into town. The Thenn warging into his owl as we entered Mole's town.

I kept my head low observing the area. No one seemed to notice me. As if I was just a wanderer entering the small town. Then again, if what Mance say's is true, they are used to strangers, especially from Crows. The majority of Crows are criminals who rather be sentenced to the Wall than take the punishment of their crimes. Back home, Lunar Haven held laws to keep the peace. Not many tribes have laws. Yet, Fenrir kept the laws our ancestors held before the Andal invasion. There shall always be violence in our cultures. It is how violence is being used to defy the type of person you'll be. We accept the consequences of our actions. But to know these Crows are mainly cowards is shameful.

I scouted around observing, counting the number of heads that wander the streets. What disgusted me was seeing women providing their bodies for money. Men having a go and dropping a coin in their hands. Not the way the Free Folk does it, since intimacy is about pleasure depending on each tribe, either be forced or given. Not a source of income.

As I scouted, she noticed a dozen or so Crows wandering about. Let alone a building where a large gathering was. Getting off the horse, securing the mare, before walking over. A patron opened the door, where I saw women half-dressed with men slouching around them drunk.

_A place Tormund would love,_ I thought.

I stood there observing, seeing one table with three men wearing black clothes. One woman was belching a tune, one I haven't heard before. Watching from a distance, I wonder why I was called a Wildling, a savage, when this room if filled with savage behavior. Men pouncing on women in means of fucking. Pouring ale all about, wasting their natural resources. The sight disgusted me. How can my people be called savages? When savages are in here?

Having enough, I walked out to give the call.

I did one more lap around the town, seeing the majority of the occupants inside. Those with family resting in their beds. When I found a safe location, I stared at Thenn Warg giving him a nod. He nodded back, sending the message. A few moments later, there was a man-made owl noise. I returned the message, saying the coast was clear.

And then it happened.

The others came in slaughtering at those who dare attacked them. Some taking torches and lighting the hays and stalls on fire. There was screaming from the southerners. When the main group came over, I lead the way to the brothel where the Crows were being kept. Styr kicked down the door, slamming his ax on a Crows head. The whores screamed, trying to run away while the men and Crows went for the attack while others were trying to collect the women.

Ygritte and I went upstairs to see the patrons and give them a long farewell. The women screamed running away. We entered a room where a woman with a dagger charged in. Ygritte dodged, avoiding the woman's attack. The moment she was exposed, Ygritte took her spear and stabbed it in the woman's stomach pinning her to the wall. The woman spat blood falling to the ground. Ygritte stepped back, drawing her short sword, as one woman came to save her friend only to be killed as well.

I stared at her to see if she was all right. Ygritte nodded leading the way, when a soft cry caught our year. We paused, listening for the source to find it coming from a closet. I yanked the tarp open as Ygritte raised her sword. A second later I stopped her, it was a young woman holding a babe. She did not dress like the southerners. It was the same materials and style for the Free Folk who lived closer to the wall. The same with the cloth that wrapped the babe. They were one of us. Somehow, they got south of the Wall.

The babe cried from all the chaos. I looked at Ygritte who nodded. I leaned forward, which made the young mother tensed. I stared into the babe's eyes warging into the little one to fall asleep. A trick many Warg parents do when a child is stubborn or in a dire situation. The babe sighed, closing his eyes, falling asleep. When I pulled back, Ygritte placed a finger against her lips, warning the young mother not to make a sound. The Mother nodded, keeping a hand over her mouth. We pulled back, shutting the door to keep her secured.

We then went back to the raid. The floors being soaked in blood seeping through the floors and dripping down to the next level. The raid continued all through the night. Killing the men and taking the rest of the community in one location, locking them there.

When dawn broke, we scavenged for supplies. In the town square, there were three Crows left. They were tied of a pillar. Styr and Tormund talked amongst one another. Until Styr came over.

"Nice work Crows, you have found the Wildlings," Styr taunted, yanking on a Crow's fur cloak.

Our men laughed at the taunt.

"The Night's Watch will stop you," The youngest Crow said, appearing to be seventeen.

"Stop me?" Styr gasped, placing a hand on his chest. "They invited us."

He grabbed the young Crow by the neck and lifting him in the air, "By building this Wall, you challenged our strength. Well, I'm here to play your game."

As he lifted his ax towards the young Crow's neck.

"Styr," I warned him.

Styr turned around; he came over to me towering over. I glared into his eyes not intimidated by him. He may be a magnar, but I am a Chieftain's daughter. I have not forgotten the attempt the Thenns had in searching for Lunar Haven. I know the story of the duel between Fenrir and Styr. How my father defeated him, and spared his life.

"I think you are forgetting your place," he murmured.

"I am a Dire," I told him.

"But you are also a Spearwife," he reminded.

He then went over to the older Crow grabbing his head, "Do you know who she is?"

The older crow shook his head.

"She is what your men call _The Wilding Huntress._ She has been traveling around the True North serving Mance to get more forces. Killing Wights along the way. She even tried to help you Crows, yet you try to kill her. Try to rape her when she was lending a hand."

The Older Crow realizing who I was spat at me. My control snapped as I came forward and punched him in the face. When I stepped back, two Thenns came over ripping the older Thenn's tunic.

"We fled south in what you call stories," Styr murmured.

Styr looked at Tormund, gesturing him to cut the man free. He did so. Now I see what was happening, they were testing me. They wanted to make sure I was one of them. They knew I was with the Three-Eyed Raven and saw all cultures of Westeros throughout history. Styr took hold of Dark Sister.

"Prove that you are one of us," Styr said. "Fight like a spearwife."

He then faced the Older Crow, "If you beat her, then you can run for your life."

A spear was shoved in my hand and took off my cloak. The three Crows were shock in seeing the tattoos on my arms. Tormund tossed a short sword to the older Crow. He grabbed it, while glaring at me. He appeared middle age, with cropped black and white hair.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Do you fear me?" he bellowed.

I glared at him, "Why did you become a Crow?"

He scoffed, "Why do you care?"

I adjusted my spear, "Why did you become a Crow?"

"He was a murderer," one of his brothers shouted. "Kegs killed a farmer and raped his wife."

I nodded by Dire Laws this man was to be sentenced to death.

"Let's see what you are made of she-wolf," Kegs.

I got into a protective dance. Kegs lunged forward, which I lean forward towards the stomach. He dodged, swinging the sword to redirect it. Next strike forward, which I blocked and strike again. Back and forth we went. I had the upper hand, but was toying with him. Waiting for the moment he loses too much energy and loses of balance. Kegs attacked again, I side stepped, kicking the man down.

"Come on Imogen!" Ygritte called out while the others cheered.

I spun the spear striking down, only he rolled away in the nick of time. He swung his blade as he stood, only I stepped back. Using the blunt end, I struck him in the face. He stumbled back, as I shot forward. He swayed, trying to avoid the spear tip. I spun the blade, smacking him across the head again knocking him down.

He recovered quickly, as he blocked another attack and lunged forward. I turn, yet the blade slice across my arm. I knee him in the face, where a crunching noise could be heard as I broke his nose. I stepped back seeing a cut on my right arm.

Kegs stumbled back, falling into Tormund. Tormund picked him up and tossed him over. Kegs fell onto his knees. Having enough of these games, I went for the attack. He blindly sways his sword desperately trying to block each attack. As I spun to do an attack, he stood up charging forward and head-butted me in the face. The impact stunned me, as I stumbled backwards. The taste of blood in my mouth, realizing I busted a lip.

Kegs hacked his way with the sword. I crawl back, barely escaping the attack. The moment he was strike again, I kicked him in the leg knocking him over and did another kick to his face. Taking this opportunity, I got up. He did as well, charging at me, which I grabbed him by his arm and used his weight to toss him over my body. Quickly I grabbed the spear as he did with his sword.

It was clear this man has not been to battle. He was no ranger. He was one of those men who hid in Castle Black. Not like the duel I had with Jon at the Windmill. Exhaustion filled Kegs as he blindly swung the sword. I dodged with ease. There was so much hate between us. The separation that the Wall has made on our kind.

Having enough, I twirled the spear and slash it across his stomach. That stunned Kegs as he stood there. I slashed him again across the chest and a stab to the knee. He fell on his knees hunching forward in defeat as he looked me in the eyes. Those brown eyes. I could see his soul. The guilt he held for many years. In the end, it cannot save him for the wrongs his brothers have done to my people.

Ending this duel once and for all, I penetrated the spear into his chest. Directly into his heart. He gasped, looking down where the spearhead struck him. Blood seeped out of his mouth, as he looked at me. Stepping back and letting go of the spear I gave a battle cry. The Free Folk joined in as well honoring the duel. The Older Crow passed, falling to the ground dead.

I panted wiping the blood off my chin. Styr came over cutting the other two Crows free.

"Go! Tell your Lord Commander to send his strongest men. We're ready," Styr grinned.

The two Crows stumbled, as they got up and started running back to Castle Black. He scratched his chin and looked at Ygritte.

"How many men does it take to deliver a message?" Styr asked.

Ygritte locked in an arrow and aimed her bow, "One."

The fired killing another Crow.

The youngest who challenged us ran for his life.

Styr came over as he rested a hand on my shoulder.

"A she-wolf indeed."

A caw caught my attention as I stared up to a building where a raven was perched. His beady eyes staring deep to me as if staring into my soul. It was the Three-Eyed Raven. This duel confirmed the separation between us. He was an observer and I was a fighter. Our paths separated never to return.

**.o0o.**

_Castle Black_

In the mass hall, Jon was with his friends grasping the news Brother Halder reported. How he and a dozen of them snuck off to Moles Town to have their way with the whores. During the middle of the night, the wildlings attacked, killing the men and women. Locking the survivors in a building while burning other buildings. By dawn, only three remained. A Thenn covered in scars challenged them. Kegs had taken the bait, as he fought the Wildling Huntress. Kegs lost his life, while Mully and Halder ran for theirs. Only Mully was killed when a wildling woman with red hair shot him. Jon tensed knowing it was Ygritte.

Everyone in Castle Black had mixed emotions. Grenn was pacing back and forth. Edd was leaning against a column. Jon, Pyp, and Sam were sitting down. Sam was in tears. A week ago, he had dropped Gilly at Moles Town, for her and Little Sam's protection. Many of the Night's Watch were eyeing Gilly, thinking they could have their way with her. Despite the fact she was under Maester Aemon's protection. Women are not supposed to be in Castle Black. The only time the men do see a woman was when they are helping their fathers delivering orders or on the rarest occasion were lost. When that does happen Jeor Mormont would let the woman stay for the night before being escorted to Moles town to find transportation or back to her farm. However, Mormont is gone now.

"I should never have left her there," Sam mumbled.

"You couldn't have known," Jon tried to comfort his friend.

"Of course I could've known," Sam disagreed. "They've been raiding the villages close by."

"And we just cower in here while they slaughter our brothers," Grenn growled, still pacing.

"Our brothers had an order to stay at Castle Black," Edd reminded.

"Oh, so it's all right, then?" Grenn bellowed. " Black Jack and Kegs and Mully chopped to pieces 'cause they broke the rules?"

"I didn't say it was all right," Edd countered, arms crossed. "I'm saying they shouldn't have been there along with the others."

"We're pledged to guard the realms of men." Grenn growled.

"She's dead because of me," Sam mumbled.

"We can't even guard Mole's Town," Grenn continued.

"We can't go after them. You know that," Jon tried to speak reason. "It's what they want."

Grenn took a deep breath resting his hands on the table.

"And Little Sam," Sam wallowed. " As if I cut their throats myself."

"Maybe she managed to hide herself," Pyp tried to help. "Halder did say, they locked the women and children in a building. She could be safe. I thought all of you was dead. You went north with Mormont, and no one came back. Not for ages. But then you did."

They were silent for a moment grasping Pyp's words.

"She survived Craster, and he was the worst shit I've ever met," Edd said. "She survived the long march to the Wall. She survived a white walker, for fuck sake. She might have got out."

Sam took a moment and nodded, "She might have."

Jon then realized something, "If they hit Mole's Town, then we're next. Mance and his army must be close."

"100,000 of them," Grenn added. "And there's what, 130 of us left?"

"Yu counting Black Jack, Kegs, and Mully?" Edd replied. "127"

"How do 127 men stop 100,000?" Pyp asked.

Jon bit his lip, not sure.

Edd pushed himself off the column and came over the table, pouring himself a cup of ale. "Whoever dies last, be a good lad, and burn the rest of us. Once I'm done with this world, I don't want to come back."

Everyone poured themselves a drink and agreed on it.

* * *

**The duel between Imogen and Kegs was inspired by the movie Centurion. Styr talking to the Three Crows was inspired by Mulan. Quarantine and binged watching can have a lot of inspiration.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


	17. Chapter 16: The Song of Exile

**_Warg Maiden_**

**_Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones_**

**_A/N: So, I made a change the Wildlings backstory. Just giving more reason why they were on the wrong side of the Wall. _**

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Song of Exile**

_The Wall_

Jon and Sam were on patrol at the top of the Wall, just as Alliser commanded. As usual, it was colder on top of the Wall. They were seven hundred feet in the air. Nothing was blocking the arctic winds. They wrapped themselves tightly in their cloaks, observing the Northside of the Wall. Ever since assigned on guard duty at night, Jon has been keeping a closer eye at the Haunted Forest. Mance's army should be near.

"What was she like?" Sam asked.

Jon paused, trying to describe Ygritte to Sam, "She…she had red hair."

"Oh?" Sam replied. "How big were her feet?"

"What do you want me to say?" Jon asked, baffled by Sam's sudden question.

"I want you to tell me what it was like to have someone. To be with someone. To love someone and have them love you back." Sam clarified.

Jon sighed.

"We're all gonna die a lot sooner than I'd planned. You're the closest I'll ever get to know."

This caught Jon by surprise, "So you and Gilly never?"

"No. She just had a baby." Sam explained. "…and she never offered."

"But if she had, you would have?" Jon asked. "You'd have broken your vows."

Sam paused, thinking about it, "The interesting thing is, our vows never specifically forbid intimate relations with women."

"What?" Jon asked as if he heard something crazy. The Night's Watch is supposed to be celibate.

Aren't they?

"I shall take no wife,' yes, that's in there. There's no denying that. 'I shall father no children.' It's very specific. But what do our vows have to say about other…activities are open to interpretation."

Jon snorted, "I don't think Ser Alliser cares much for interpretation."

He then stepped down from the platform and walked along the Wall. Sam was right behind him. Jon continued to think what Maester Aemon told him a year ago. How love was the death of duty. That love is a distraction. A distraction the Men of the Night's Watch didn't need. If only documentation was kept during the first Lord Commander in what their sworn duty is. Nearly eight thousand years and there have been 998 Lord Commanders. What was their sense of responsibility back then?

It brought up a conversation he had with the wildings. Well, more like him listening and the wildlings telling stories. How the wildlings used to be the Sealgairean, hunters who searched the True North of their greatest enemies while the Night's Watch guarded the Wall. Making sure only the living pass through. When he did ask what changed, Imogen looked at him, saying one word, "Andals."

Did the wildling and the Night's watch work together before the Andals? Why would the Andals change the Night's Watch? If only he could see the past.

"Anyway, there's nothing for him to interpret. We didn't," Sam added. following Jon. "So, what's it like?"

Jon tried to figure out how to explain the feeling of sex to Sam. It was not like talking to Robb or Theon of their sexual adventures. Probably because they were fucking whores, not making love to them. Also, it happened one day in the cave.

"It's …there's this person, this whole other person. And you're wrapped up in them, and they're wrapped up in you. And you… for a little…" Jon blushed tongue twisted. "…for a little while you're more than just you. You' re—I don't know. I'm not a bleeding poet."

"No, you're really not," Sam teased.

"What did I get for it? An arrow six inches from my heart," Jon sighed, facing Sam.

"There'll be arrows for all of us soon, I imagine," Sam said.

"There will," Jon agreed.

"They've already done the worst thing to me they could ever do," Sam said, still heartbroken about Gilly and Little Sam.

Jon sighed, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Go get some sleep, Sam. I'll take this watch."

Sam stared at Jon seeing his brother need some alone time. So, with a nod, Sam got on the elevator. He closed the door and pulled the lever to go down. Jon watched him go down when he saw something from the corner of his eyes. A Snowy Owl. After a closer inspection, he noticed the bird's eyes were yellow and not grey. Therefore, Frigg was not being warged right now. Not bothering in killing the bird, he went back to his position. Unaware of the second owl on the Elevator ramp.

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

It was a full moon, yet the clouds have covered the sky. We were roughly a quarter mile away from Castle Black waiting for the signal. We made camp amongst the hills taking longer. Not long after, more of the Free Folk arrived, turning our numbers to a hundred. All of us ready to take Castle Black. We all waited. The Thenn Warg scouting the area along with Frigg. If she spotted something, she could sense it. Also, sensing Skadi was near. Therefore, Mance and the army is close at hand.

We were all enjoying our last meal. I sat next to Ygritte as she continues to make more arrows. I rubbed my lip; the swelling has come down, yet it was still split. Kegs, though not a warrior, left a good mark. Ygritte mended my arm though there is no doubt it will scar. Right now, I want this to be over and have our people safe. The Wall has magic, the magic of the Children of the Forest. It is what separates the living from the dead.

As we wait, I felt a pair of eyes in our direction. It was Styr. He has been keeping a close eye on Ygritte and I. I hated him after what he did at Mole's Town. He has challenged me as a spearwife. The Thenns always think the worse in us Dires. Assuming we are not the Free Folk since our customs were close to those souths of the Wall. Only the Dires still holds onto the laws the First Men made. The laws after the victory of the Long Night. There was more; he was challenging me since I rediscovered the truth of the Free Folk.

Our ancestors were not born in the far North.

No…our ancestors were in the true North; they were called the Sealgaireans. They hunted for Wights and White Walkers for two thousand years. They were hunting our enemies, so those who lived South of the Wall could survive. Then the Andals came, did the Southerners forgotten about the Sealgairean? They sealed the eighteen tunnels and polluted the Night's Watch. They turned our real enemy into a myth, and the Sealgaireans into the threat. Calling us Wildlings. Six thousand years later, the Sealgaireans became the Free Folk. Our families separated and forgotten. But the Dires will always remember.

The Three-Eyed Raven showed me my ancestor, after the Long Night. The wolf on my neck, representing who I was, as my torc held the artwork of my ancestors' crest. Although I go by Imogen, daughter of Fenrir and Boudica. I know what my last name would have been if I was born south of the Wall.

"Did I ever tell you about her?" Tormund announced. "My Sheila?"

All eyes were on Tormund, wanting to hear the story.

Ygritte, annoyed, answered, "Yes."

I groaned, knowing what story he was talking about. His supposed affair with a bear. Ironic, that a Warg cannot mate with an animal while in animal form. Yet people are entertained that Tormund fucked a bear. If anything, the bear represents a woman who holds the spirit of a bear. Otherwise, Tormund would be dead. He has been south of the Wall before. Maybe he fucked a lady whose crest is a bear. That is the only logical concept.

"That was a night to remember," Tormund sighed in the memory. "Of course, I'd had a good bit to drink."

He chuckled along with a few men.

Tormund continued, using his hands to be dramatic, "Her fangs were sharp, but she knew how to use them. And she was nice and soft down below. No, she was no ordinary beast. Many are the man –"

"I know you never fucked a bear," Ygritte snapped, stopping her carving. "You know you never fucked a bear. Right now, I don't want to think about the bear you never fucked. Right now, all I want to think about is each one of these arrows finding its way into a crow's heart."

As she twirled the arrow and tossed it in a pile. She grabbed another one making the tip sharp.

Tormund leaned forward, looking at her, "We could be waiting here a while."

"Good," Ygritte replied. "The longer we wait, the more arrows I'll have."

I know what is going on. The moment we attack Castle Black, she will have to confront Jon. She loved him still, despite his betrayal. In the end, she has to keep her promise and kill him. Otherwise, Tormund or I will have to finish the job. Jon Snow is a risk. She also knew about the Andals. Everyone North of the Wall hated the Andals. Hated anyone who held Andal blood. They invaded our lands when there was peace between the Children, the Giants, and the First Men. They tore our sacred trees and forced our spiritual brother south of the Wall to honor their seven gods.

"They came up here to our hands and put a big wall and said it was theirs," she said. "Then they started hunting us down. This time, we're the ones doing the hunting."

Tormund and I nodded.

Styr started at Ygritte, "You got a lot to say about killing. Even more words than arrows."

"Back in those villages, I killed just as many of them as you did. More, I reckon," Ygritte reminded.

"Yes, but none of those were your crow lover," Styr countered.

"I probably killed him already," she said.

"So you said."

"And if not, the only thing left of him is gonna be his fun bits hanging around my neck."

Everyone chuckled.

However, Styr continued his insult, "More words. Know what I think you do when you see him? Serve him up a nice slice of ginger minge."

The Thenns laughed. Ygritte shot up marching over to Styr, staring down at him, "You been thinking about that ginger minge? Wondering what it tastes like?"

Styr stood up, staring down at her, "Maybe I have."

The Red tribe and the Thenns stood up in case of a fight is about to break. Ygritte not bending, glare at the Magna.

"Jon Snow is mine," she warned him, then faced everyone. "Anyone else tries to kill him, I'll have an arrow for them. "she ten faced Styr, "And not one of your bald friends is fast enough to stop me."

Needing to break the tension, I took a sip of water and began to sing:

Land of bear and land of eagle

Land that gave us birth and blessing

Land that called us ever homewards

We will go home across the mountains

o

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

This caught everyone's attention. A song that has been passed down for six thousand years. The promise our ancestors made when our brothers had forgotten about. A promise their children one day will cross the Wall. The eighteen forts that form the Wall were the mountains. As I continued to sing, everyone sat down listening to the song.

Land of freedom land of heroes

Land that gave us hope and memories

Hear our singing hear our longing

We will go home across the mountains

o

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

o

Land of sun and land of moonlight

Land that gave us joy and sorrow

Land that gave us love and laughter

We will go home across the mountains

o

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

o

When the land is there before us

We have gone home across the mountains

We will go home, we will go home

We will go home across the mountains

Silence engulfed the camp. Only the sound of the winds and the cracklings of the fires. All around the men and spearwives watched and listened. All we ever wanted was to survive and live in peace. It was time we conquered the mountain to take back was rightfully ours. We are not asking for all Seven Kingdoms. Just the North in lands we could occupy. The Wall holds the magic that prevents the Death from crossing over.

We all sat there, waiting for the signal.

I took this as an opportunity to warg into Frigg.

.**o0o**.

_Sam's POV_

Sam was going through the library trying to understand the Wildlings. Based on his experience with Gilly and Jon's encounters with Ygritte, something doesn't add up. Even Edd's accounts from his encounters with the wildlings. But at the same time, they contradict when they raid villages and towns. They were like a double edge sword. Violent but at the same peaceful.

He was going through Maester's Faull books. So far, Maester Faull has written documentation about the wildlings. But something doesn't seem right. All his words talk about the violence. The raids, pillaging, the stealing of women, and the confrontation between the Tribes and members of the Night's Watch.

"And what is it that couldn't wait until morning, Tarly?" Maester Ameon asked out of nowhere.

This startled Sam that he literally jumped form where he was. There stood Maester Aemon, his dark robes camouflaging him in the darkness. Only his pale skin and white hair stood out, reflecting what is left of the candlelight. The elderly man gave the young man a knowing smile.

"Maester Aemon," Sam greeted relieved, then paused towards the blind man. "How did you know—"

"That it was you?" Maester Aemon finished. "Who else, but Samwell Tarly would be wasting candles to read in the middle of the night?"

Point taken, Sam thought. "Let me help you."

"Oh, no need," Maester Aemon assured.

Maester Aemon walked over to a table sitting down. Sam grabbed the lantern bringing it over as he sat next to him. The Maester still having a peaceful smile on his face.

"I know my way around this library better than any other place in Castle Black," Aemon said. "Thousands of books and no eyes to read them. Old age is a wonderful source of ironies if nothing else. But you didn't answer my question. What are you reading?"

"Maester Faull," Sam answered.

"Ah, the wildlings," he said with slight disappointment. "I can assure you that the closest Maester Faull ever got to a wildling was this very library."

"But what he says about what they do, it's all true. It's exactly what the survivors of their raids report."

"Yes, imagine the stories wildlings tell about us," Aemon jest. "I'll tell you something. When Brynden Rivers was Lord Commander, he crossed paths with a wildling. The wildling did no harm, but offered him fire for warmth, a rabbit to fill his hunger, and a sip of Wildling alcohol. He did not like alcohol."

This caught Sam by surprise. Not realizing Maester Aemon was there even for the famous Bloodraven. Maester Aemon nodded with a long memory on his face.

"Love is the death of duty," Aemon said, now with a serious face. "I told that to your friend Jon Snow once. He didn't listen, and neither did you. Which is why you've abandoned your watch atop the Wall to come here and read about the terrible things that may have happened to the girl you love."

"I don't love her," Sam argued.

Maester Aemon smile, "Yes, you do."

"No," Sam countered.

"Yes, you do," he said with a wide smile.

Sam flushed, even a blind man could see he has feelings for Gilly.

"Heard it in your voice when you first brought her to me. I remember how it sound. I was in love once."

"What?" Sam asked, baffled.

Maester Aemon took offense, "You can imagine all manner of horrors befalling that poor girl and her child. It is so difficult to imagine that an old person was once, more or less, like you?"

"I'm sorry, Maester," Sam apologized. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Do you know who I was before I came here? What I could have been if I'd only said the word?" Aemon asked.

Sam paused, he knew that Maester Aemon was once Prince Aemon Targaryen, the third son of King Maekar I, a Targaryen. Not wanting to cause a rift with his two older brothers and nephew, he became a maester. To secure his loyalty for his family, Aemon chose to be a maester of Castle Black. Westeros has forgotten about him, but Aemon was the last Targaryen in Westeros by name and blood.

"Of course you do," Aemon said, then sighed. "I met many girls when I was Aemon Targaryen. A future king always does. Some of them were quite forward in their attempts to win my affections. One of them succeeded. I was very young."

"Who was she?" Sam asked.

"Ah," he replied in memory. "I could tell you everything about her. Who she was, how we met, the color of her eyes, and the shape of her nose. I can see her right in front of me. She's more real than you are. We could spend all night training tales of lost loves. Nothing makes the past a sweeter place to visit than the prospect of imminent death. Go to bed, Tarly."

As the old maester stood up, feeling his way to the candle before blowing it out. Sam nodded as he helped Maester Aemon to blow out the candles and left. Out of anyone who has dealt with heartbreak, it was indeed Maester Aemon. Sam would say Maester Aemon is the most honorable man with so many sacrifices. The last male Targaryen in Westeros. Other than his niece lost in Essos. A man who could have been a King but kept to his vows.

Sam left the library, making way to the barracks for the night. A chill went down his spine since he has forgotten his cloak back in the library. He was about to go back to get it when he heard a commotion at the gate. It was Pyp telling someone he couldn't open the gate. Seeing how he could resolve the problem; he came over to help. However, a familiar voice could be heard. A voice he thought was dead.

"Sorry, I can't open the gate for anybody. Orders." Pyp tried to speak reason.

"You don't understand," Gilly pleaded. "They killed everyone. Everyone but the children. They're out there. I saw them on my way here. They may have seen me. They may have followed me. Please."

"I'm sorry, I can't," Pyp apologized.

"If they find us out here, you don't know…"

Sam rushed over, "Pyp! Open the gate!"

Pyp turned around in a panic, "I can't."

Gilly leaned closer to the window, "Sam, is that you?"

"Yes," Sam said, coming closer then stopped.

"Thorne gave me strict orders to not open the gate," Pyp reminded.

"Oh, Pyp, open the _fucking_ gate!" Sam barked, frustrated.

Pyp's eyes widen, for that was a first. Not wanting to deal with his friend's wrap, he closed the window and unlocked the gate.

"I never heard you curse before," Pyp commented.

"Yes, well, best get used to it," Sam grumbled.

Pyp opened the gate just enough to let Gilly enter. She stormed in, holding a bundle in her arms. Pyp quickly shut and locked the gate. Sam rushed over, taking Gilly in his arm. Little Sam crying for he had woken up with fright.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked.

Gilly panted, catching her breath while the baby fussed. From what Sam could see, there was no sign of harm to her. Her clothes seemed to be intact and no bloodstains. Other than exhaustion from her journey from Mole's Town and chill on her cheeks, she was alive and well. He then checked on Little Sam, wide eyed from waking up and cheeks red from the cold. The baby has grown as well since he last saw them.

"Shh, you're all right," Sam cooed to the little one. "Of course, you are, my brave little fella."

"It was horrible," she said.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," he apologized. "I didn't know until I got back."

"Don't let them send me away, Sam," she begged.

"Never," he assured.

"I know there's no women allowed," She cried.

Sam placed a hand on her arm, "Anyone who tries to throw you out will be having words with me. From now on, wherever you go, I go too."

Seeing Gilly and Little Sam again alive and well, will make him damn his vows. Or find a way to be there for the two. Jon, Grenn, Pyp, and Edd were his brothers, but Gilly and Little Sam were his families under the short period of time since the babe was born. Nothing can separate him. Gilly looked at him wide eye, seeing the promise.

Suddenly, the horn blared. All three adults paused since the number of horns indicates a situation. One blow for a ranger. And then another blast of the horn…. wildlings.

"Get ready!" someone yelled.

"Man the gates!"

"Ready yourselves!"

"Sam, take them to the storage room," Pyp advised.

Sam nodded, wrapping an arm around Gilly and taking her inside.

"Prepare!"

"Up on the Wall!"

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon stood on one of the platforms staring out to the Haunted Forest. A massive forest fire that was a mile long burned the forest. He could hear Mance's promise echoing in his ears.

When it's time, I'm going to light the biggest fire the North has ever seen.

Jon can't recall any forest fires ever happening beyond the Wall. Seeing the flames reaching for the sky. They were here. Roughly 100,000 wildlings marching south with one goal. He knew they wanted to be on the safe side of the Wall, to escape the White Walkers. Believing the Wall holds magic to protect all mankind. Although, six-thousand years of separation has left bitterness between the South and the True North. Some tribes can't be trusted.

A shriek caught his attention as Jon looked up, seeing Frigg. This time the Snowy owls' eyes were grey. He turned to Imogen. As his hand reached to grab her, the snowy owl took off. Jon cursed as he looked down, seeing people coming from the tree line along with the howl of the direwolves.

"Light them up!" a ranger bellowed. "Light them all!"

The men assigned to the top of the Wall light the torches. Jon quickly tossed his cloak and helped his brothers get the oil and pitch to the stocks. The archers securing their harness. Two men kept blowing on the horn twice every ten seconds, informing the outer post and nearby villages of a wildling attack. In the chaos, Edd and Grenn made their way up along with Alliser and Janos.

"Come on!" Grenn called to the others. "Let's get the next load."

Jon excused himself and walked over to Alliser. The Master of Arms stood there, observing the forest fire.

"That's the last of the oil, Ser Alliser," Jon reported.

"100,00, you say?" Alliser asked.

"Yes, Ser," Jon confirmed.

"You can say it if you like," Alliser said.

Jon glanced at his surprise.

"We should have sealed the tunnel while we had the chance, like you suggested," Alliser said with distaste.

"It was a difficult decision, either way, Ser," Jon politically said.

"Do you know what leadership means, Lord Snow?" Alliser asked.

Jon shook his head, which Alliser took the silence as no.

"It means that the person in charge gets second-guessed by every clever little twat with a mouth. But if he starts second-guessing himself, that's the end – for him, for the clever little twats, for everyone. This is not the end. Not for us. Not if you lot do your duty for however long it takes to beat them back. And then you get to go on hating me, and I get to go on wishing your wildling whore had finished the job."

The horn blows twice.

Jon prays that is how it goes if they win this battle.

* * *

**The next chapter will be the battle. It will take some time since there are multiple scenes, and I need to figure out which characters to focus on. Also, I made a little history about the Wildlings. The Wall has been up for eight thousand years, Bran the Builder would have known people had lived on the other side of the Wall. So, I thought, the Wildlings were descended from White Walker Hunters. Their main objective is to find Wights and White Walkers and eliminate them. The Sealgaireans continued this practice for two thousand years, where both the Sealgaireans and the Night's Watch worked together. Until the Andals came, and populated Castle Black that the new crows did not know. Thus, started the rift between the Wildlings and those South of the Wall.**

**Sealgairean means Hunter in Gaelic. Or that is what google translator says.**

**We will go Home/Song of Exile if from _King_ _Arthur_ (2004)**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


	18. Chapter 17: Battle of Castle Black

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: I decided not to write what happens at the top of the Wall. Basically, it is the same thing that happens on the show. So, this chapter will focus on the ground level. Sorry guys, I've been struggling on this chapter, and felt easier focusing on the Castle Level and not the Wall level. Also, there is a plot twist at the end**._

* * *

**Chapter 17: Battle of Castle Black**

_Imogen's POV_

My dirk was pressed against my neck. I gasped, staring at the man who had managed to take hold of my dagger and forced it to my jugular. A sharp snap of metal could be heard from the breakage of the torc. Dark eyes widen, our bodies in shock. Jon standing there, Longclaw in his hand while Dark Sister was on the ground while our free hands were locked on the dirk.

So many emotions have stirred between us. The battle has taken most of the night, and dawn has yet to approach. All around us was death. The Free Folk only wanted to survive. We just wanted to cross the Wall. It was the only thing that separated the Living from the Dead. Why can't the Crows see that? Jon experienced the Wights and witnessed a White Walker. So, he should know better.

But the death of someone we cherished has led us to this moment.

Jon had the upper hand to kill me this second.

Just one jerk of his hand and death shall bleed out.

How did we get here?

We had the upper hand!

How could this happen…

**.o0o.**

_Moments earlier…_

I stared through the eyes of Frigg seeing Mance's signal. When he said the greatest fire the North has ever seen, he wasn't kidding. As a massive bonfire consumed a partial of the Haunted Forest. I turned to the Thenn Warg. I nodded to him, to inform the others, while I soar over to the forest. I landed on Mance's shoulder. He looked at me, please.

"Are the others near?" Mance asked.

I nodded.

"Good," Mance said. "If the numbers are correct. Then we should conquer Castle Black before the dawn."

I nodded before glancing at Fenrir, who had both Valko and Skadi by his side. I was glad to see that Skadi was reunited with the pack because I didn't want her to be out in the Haunted Forest alone. Especially when Jon and the Crows knew she was nearby. It also meant that Craster's daughter/wives were safe with the others. Right now, a hundred thousand warriors of men and women were here. While those were not able to fight are somewhere safe.

"The others are with the Dire Clan far west from here," Fenrir reported. "We will get them once we cross the Wall."

I nodded before returning to my body. When I opened my eyes, I saw many of the Free Folk standing up to see the burning atmosphere that has turned the dark sky into an inferno of orange and purple.

"It's time," the Thenn warg reported.

"The army awaits," I said. "The others are several miles away from the battle."

"Good, can't take the risk," Tormund said, then looked at Ygritte. "Go check the South Gate."

Ygritte nodded as she filled her quiver and quietly went to scout ahead. At least that will give her some space from Styr. The Magnar watched her leave before turning to Tormund and I. He held a serious expression.

"Little Crow is dead either way," Styr promised.

Tormund raised his horn, "To the fighter who kills the baby crow."

Styr nodded as both men took a drink. I rolled my eyes. Jon Snow had a chance to survive from this invasion. If only he had stayed faithful to Ygritte. If he wanted to make peace, he could have helped to get the Wall gates open. We don't seek war. All we want is to survive and separate the Living from the Dead. There was a saying that Bloodraven told me.

_Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling …it's all the same. If you have to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all._

If only the Southerners knew of the two evils. They consider us Wildlings to be evil. If only they knew the greater evil of the White Walkers, and not make them out to be stories. Along with the saying seeing is believing. The southerners are narrow-minded. Especially those born in the North that forgot their true heritage. But we Free Folk are the direct bloodline of the First Men. We are descended from the Sealgaireans. Men and women who hunted down the Others so mankind can survive without fear. No longer a child to be cold and starving in a winter that lasted a generation. A mother doesn't need to fear if her babe will die and not see the spring. A man can provide for his family instead of having a weapon in hand.

It would be a while when Ygritte returned with the news.

**.o0o.**

_Ygritte's POV_

The Spearwife hid behind a boulder having a view of the South Gate. She can see two men at the gatehouse. One being a chubby Crow while another with a torch was passing through. There was many openings that her comrades could climb over. And when their archers get near, they can shoot them down. It surprised her to see not a lot Crows at the South Gate. She wonders if they were up on the Wall.

Staying low, Ygritte made her way back to her people. They all have gathered around with their weapons in hand for the upcoming battle. There were a hundred and fifty of them. With many of the Crows up on the Wall, this should be an easy capture. She carefully ran down the hill to join them with the report.

"Most of their men are up top," Ygritte said. "Didn't count more than twenty down here. Leftovers. They got a big fat one and a little bony one manning the front."

This caught Imogen's attention, "Save the fat one for me. He has something I need."

"And what's that?" Styr asked.

"He has Joramun's horn," Imogen answered. "I saw it when I warged a few months ago."

Tension rises for they all knew the legend of Joramun's horn. Styr nodded since if anyone dares blows on the Horn then the Wall will be crumble, and no one will be safe from the Others.

"How high are the walls?" Styr asked Ygritte.

"Well, we'll be up and over before they know what's happened," Ygritte answered with a lofty attitude.

Styr grabbed his ax, "Let's kill some crows!"

Everyone cheered as they follow Styr. Imogen came over to Ygritte, resting a hand on her shoulder. She placed her hand on Imogen's.

"Stay safe," Imogen murmured.

"Same to you," Ygritte replied.

They rested their foreheads together. Although, Ygritte being Ygritte, planted a peck on Imogen's lips. The She-wolf scoffed, rolling her eyes while trying to ignore the blush. The Dire taking her wolf mask, covering her face from embarrassment. Ygritte laughed though sighed. She knows once they infiltrate the gate, Jon will be there. After many weeks, she will have to kill her lover. Yet a part of her wanted to grab Jon and run South. But could she abandon her people? Most of all, can she leave her sister?

"Come on!" Tormund sang, pouring a bucket of water on the fire.

Ygritte sighed, grabbing her extra quiver of arrows, as she started climbing up for the attack. This battle will be over within an hour give or take. With weapons in hand, the Free Folk ran through the Kingsroad.

The sound of a horn being blown twice every other moment pierced through the frigid air. When a new tone of a horn being louder and precise on the ground level indicating their arrival. Tormund and Styr were in the lead, running faster than their attire gives them. The Crows at the gate began firing an arrow, ones covered in fire. A few of their comrades went down, but the furs of their clothes managed to prevent it; if not, some of them blew out.

Ygritte grabbed the missed arrows and began firing at the bridge. Other archers did the same, firing at the Crows while the other Free Folk gather around at the gate, pushing their way through the barricade. Meanwhile, others were getting in the blind zone, trying to climb up the fifteen maybe twenty-foot-tall Wall. Grappling hooks were pulled out, tied with rope as they attempt to throw it onto the other side. In retaliation, the Crows dropped large rocks on them. Several Free Folks pulled out wood shields protecting their comrades head as they took a log and used it as a battering ram.

The spearwife shot down another crow and made her way over. She needed to get inside and find Jon. At least before Tormund or Styr gets to him. When she got over, she could see Tormund had gotten a grappling hook over and was climbing up. It wasn't long when the gate burst open that her people stormed in.

Now the battle begins.

Everywhere she went, she fired arrows. Shooting at crows who came too close to her and her comrades. She looked everywhere for Jon, yet he was nowhere to be seen. She concluded that Jon was on top of the Wall. If he was wise, he should remain there. Then again, one of their objectives is to destroy the elevator, trapping the Crows there.

Suddenly a gigantic arrow landed in the middle of the Courtyard with a crow already impaled. Ygritte nodded, impressed. Needing to praise the giant who shot that arrow.

Later on, she noticed the little bony crow from earlier. He had fired and killed one of her comrades. The Crow knelt down, hiding behind the battlement with a crossbow. Ygritte knocked an arrow and aimed, waiting for him to pop up. The moment he did, she fired, getting the bony crow in the neck. She intended for the eye, so the bony crow could have a quick death. In the end, the crow was a dead crow.

.**o0o**.

_Imogen's POV_

I got through one of the Inner curtains of Castle Black. Everywhere I went, I was killing Crows or mortally injured them. I need to find the Crow named Samwell Tarly. He has the Horn of Joramun. I need to find that horn before it is accidentally blown by mortal lips or into the wrong hands of the Night King. If the Night King gets hold of the Horn, then the Wall will be no more and Westeros will have a Second Long Night. One that will last longer than a generation.

Three Crows stood there, staring at me. We were in tight quarters that they can't come at me altogether. I smirked under my mask. One being the bravest, charged at me. It was clear this man was not trained with a sword, as he charged at me doing a big full swing. Adjusting Dark Sister to a reverse grip upward sweep to deflect it. The impact knocks the Crow's sword backward. I come in with a slash, across the gut, that had him fall to his knees. I grabbed the blunt area of my sword doing a double-handed stab into the Crows face. I stopped staring at the two remaining Crows whose eyes widen in horror. Ripping the Valyrian sword out, causing blood and brain matter to splatter out. The dead Crow falling to the ground.

The two Crows stare at each other then back at me before running away.

I snorted, "Wise decision."

I ran through the inner curtains trying to find the Fat Crow. Only to stumble onto Tormund's duel. He was fighting Alliser Thorn. Tormund style in fighting was straight attack with intimidation of growling and shouts. Based on Alliser's form, he was more experienced in swordsmanship, as he parries Tormund's attack. As the Head Crow thrusts over, Tormund steps back, blocking each attack.

They were everywhere, as Alliser tried to use the beams and rails to separate at the same time tangled Tormund. Alliser tried to swing downward, which Tormund somersaulted away from the strike. Alliser attempted to do another attack, but Tormund grabbed hold of Alliser's sword hand, and slash at the Crows waist, getting him good. Alliser groan as his hand covers the wound. Tormund got up, growling like a bear hacking away at Alliser's sword, causing the Crow to fall to his knees. Two more strikes and Alliser fell off the inner curtain. Tormund leaned over as I ran by his side, seeing Alliser still alive, being dragged by his men.

"Hold the fucking gate!" Alliser bellowed. "Hold it!"

More Crows came at us away as Tormund and I fought them off. Based on what we saw, we were in the lead. As Crows guarding the Castle and Gate were dropping like flies. It is shocking since when Bloodraven was Lord Commander, he told me every Brother was trained to his standard. I guess over a century and a half later, the Night's Watch has become sloppy. Then again, the majority of these Crows were from villages or criminals. Not trained in armies, Masters of Arms, or even a knight.

At this rate, Castle Black will belong to the Free Folk.

All we need to do is destroy the elevator and open the inner gate.

**.o0o.**

_Jon and Ygritte's POV_

Jon stared down below, seeing two giants, a woolly mammoth, and a half a dozen wildlings at the inner gate. They have managed to destroy the wooden gate and have tied off the metal gate. The Mammoth pulled at the roped, obeying its master as he did the same, holding another rope pulling as well. Jon already sent Grenn with five other men to guard the inner gate in case he and the others can't stop them from above.

He and his brothers moved a ramp to be directly above the gate. They loaded it with pitch and ignited the fabric. Edd pulled the lever allowing the three barrels of pitch to fall. Edd and Jon looked down, watching, seeing three explosions. The Wildlings were on fire, as the fur of the Mammoth caught flame, that is, causing the beast to run away, making the chain and rope snap. One giant went after the beast. However, a Brother was at a ballista, aiming it at the giant before firing, killing the gigantic man. The second giant roared, pounding his fist into the iron gate, before mustering all his strength to lift it.

At the same time, there was an explosion on the Wall. Jon's eyes widen, assuming a cork came undone while the wick was on fire. The blast sent debris everywhere, tossing a Brother who held an archer harness, which had the man fall to his death.

Jon cursed, trying to figure out another plan.

That was when he heard footsteps on the platform. Jon glanced over his shoulder to see Sam.

"What are you doing up here?" Jon yelled, not out of anger, but all the commotion made it impossible to hear clearly.

"The wildlings are over the walls," Sam reported. "Ser Alliser's fallen. The castle won't stand much longer."

Jon contemplated this. If the Wildlings take over the ground level, they can destroy the elevator, and all of those who are on Wall duty would be trapped. The top of the Wall is not stable across the North. It would be a dangerous week before they reach another Castle that has a ramp and staircase rotten from lack of care. Not having much of a choice Jon made his decision.

"Edd, you have the Wall," Jon ordered.

Edd looked at him as if he was crazy.

Jon placed a hand on his Brother's shoulder, giving instructions, "If they try the mammoths again, drop fire on them. If the climbers get too high, drop the scythe on them."

With nothing else to say, Jon headed towards the elevator, taking ten more men. He grabbed Longclaw shouting out, "Come, brothers. Now fight with me!"

In the distance, Jon could hear Edd yell, "Might as well enjoy out last night, right, boys? Light the fuckers up!"

Once in the elevator, it would be five or so minutes before they reach the bottom. Many thoughts were lingering in his head. Jon knew he will have to face his demons. There is a chance he might have to fight Tormund or Imogen. But the one person he doesn't want to fight is Ygritte. They were both in a life and death situation. The Wildlings may have spared the women and children in the towns and villages; however, they have a vendetta to slaughter every crow.

"I don't want you out there," Jon told Sam.

"You can't protect me forever," Sam argued. "There won't be anywhere to hide if the castle falls."

Jon handed Sam a key. The key to Ghost's stall. Sam realized this as he took it. Jon gave an apologetic look to his best friend. Between Ghost and Sam in this situation, he'd rather choose the Direwolf.

"I need him more than I need you," Jon said.

Sam nodded in agreement.

Becoming impatient. Jon opens the door and jumped out. He landed roughly on his feet, he had to roll down before getting back up. A wildling came charging over, Jon ducked while slashing the intruder in the stomach, killing him instantly. Longclaws Valyrian Steel slicing through the furs and flesh. Two more came forward as Jon fought them off, giving time for his brothers to reach the bottom safely. Once they were down, Jon ran down the steps, fighting his way through to the courtyard.

Everywhere you looked there was chaos, as the wildings had the upper hand. He could see Imogen and Tormund storming the inner curtain while Ygritte was nowhere in sight. Jon ended up fighting two men who had spears if it was difficult. Until his furry Brother came in, tackling one that allowed Jon to kill the other.

That was when a Thenn came after him with a battleax.

Ygritte spotted Jon as he was fighting with Styr. The magnar towering over him by two feet. She searched for a spot drawing her bow with an arrow ready. She aimed it at the two, yet she couldn't fire. Her heart flutters when seeing Jon. A part of her wanted to kill him, but at the same time, she wanted to kill Styr and spare Jon. Instead, she stood there, covered watching the two duels.

Meanwhile, Jon and Styr continued to fight. Jon noted the Thenn was stronger. He tried to aim Longclaw at the Wildling's hand, except the Thenn would slide the pole of the ax down deflecting it. It wasn't until the curve of the ax caught the sword that Styr tossed Longclaw out of Jon's hand. Jon's eyes widen, not expecting it. Follow by a punch in the face. Jon stumbled backward, able to miss the attack Styr did.

Styr was hacking away, chopping and slashing at Jon. All he could do was dodge and try to grab a weapon. But Styr was fast despite his size. Jon dodged again, as Styr's ax chopped down a weapons shelf. Jon managed to grab some chains, using it like a whip, tossing at Styr's face to deflect and block the ax movement. Styr growled, shouting from the top of his lungs, swinging down while Jon used the chains to smack Styr's hand. The impact caused the Thenn to let go. But Styr wrapped his arm around Jon's neck and started punching the bastard in the stomach. Over and over again.

Suddenly Styr grabbed the back of his neck and slammed Jon's face onto an anvil. A crunch could be heard, as the world spun around Jon while spitting blood. Styr then tossed Jon onto the forge. The flames startled Jon back to his senses as he rolled onto his back and out of the firepit. Styr ran around, grabbing Jon again and pinned him to a post. Jon spat at Styr's face, punching and grabbing what he could to escape. Jon randomly grabbed a hammer, kicking Styr in the crotch making the Thenn hunched over. Jon took that opportunity and slammed the pointed end of the hammer into Styr's skull. The impact went deep that blood squirted out, and the Thenn looking at him wide eyed before falling.

Jon gasped, leaning against the post while spitting out blood. He wiped his hand over his mouth. Taking a few more deep breaths, he got up to find a sword. A pull of a drawstring caught his attention. He looked up, seeing Ygritte being fifteen feet away from him with an arrow aimed at his head.

For some reason, Jon couldn't help but smile. Glad to see she was still alive.

Meanwhile, Ygritte was conflicted. She had Jon in her sight. Here was her chance to kill him and get revenge for his betrayal, but she couldn't. She loved him dearly. He was hers as she was his. When he smiled, it melted her heart. Maybe if she can convince him to leave, they can escape before their comrades could notice. There was a silent agreement between them. As Jon could read it in her eyes.

Just as Ygritte loosen her hold on the string and lower the bow, she gasped. A sharp seething pain going through the middle of her upper back and through her chest. She looked down, see five inches of an arrow protruding out of her. Immediately, the feeling of drowning filled her lungs as she fell to her knees.

Jon gasped, staring at the direction the arrow came from being none other than Olly. The young boy nodded to Jon, trying to say _you're welcome_. Olly having no idea what he had done since the boy only saw a wildling aiming at his friend.

Instantly, Jon ran over to Ygritte, holding her in his arms. His throat clenched and eyes wide, assessing the wound. What he saw, he dreaded. The arrow didn't go through the shoulder. No, it was a direct kill through the heart.

"Jon Snow," Ygritte whispered.

"Hush. Don't talk," Jon told her.

"Do you remember the cave?" she asked.

Jon nodded.

"We should have stayed in the cave," she whispered.

Jon felt his throat constrict as he musters out, "We'll go back there."

Ygritte struggled to breathe. Taking as much deep breaths she could, yet they were ragged. Her last words to her lover were, "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Blue eyes focused on him, as Ygritte wanted to remember his face in death. Jon, on the other hand, watched the life leave her eyes. Her face falling numb, and the last breath of air abandoning her lips. Jon's lips trembled as he rested his forehead against Ygritte holding onto her. The world seemed to slow down in the chaos they live in.

Until he heard a desperate shriek.

"Ygritte!"

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

The battle was dwindling as the Crows were losing the battle. I noticed through the chaos that Styr and the Warg Thenn were no longer in sight. I can only assume they were dead. Tormund was still fighting in the inner curtain of the castle. Give it another hour, and the battle will be done. That was when I noticed one person was missing.

Where is Ygritte?

I ran around searching for my best friend, calling out her name. I looked everywhere until coming to the blacksmith forge seeing Jon on the ground holding someone in his arms. As I grew closer, I saw the fiery red hair. I felt like someone had punched me in the chest.

"Ygritte!"

No…no…NO!

The spearwife did not move in Jon's arm. Fearing the worse, I ran over, pushing Jon away as I held Ygritte in my arms. She wasn't moving, her eyes were closed and mouth slightly open. There was no indication of life. I shook her.

"Ygritte," I called out. "Ygritte!"

There was no response. My eyes watered, feeling my throat tighten. I held my best friend, my sister, in my arms. Ygritte was dead. Killed by an arrow.

"Ygritte!" I bellowed.

Footsteps approach that I looked up staring at Jon. His eyes were watery since he too lost a lover. However, he doesn't understand the pain. Jon betrayed Ygritte back at the mill. He never stopped to consider our way of life. He is a crow instead of helping the world of men. Rather serve the southerners instead of those who needed protection.

"I'm sorry," Jon apologized.

"Sorry," I seethed, carefully putting Ygritte down and stood up. "You're not sorry. There are two lesser evils, and you chose one."

"Leave Castle Black," Jon offered. "It's not too late."

I got into position, Dark Sister at the ready.

"If we cross swords," Jon warned, stepping away backward. Until he stepped on something. He knelt down, picking up Longclaw.

"I won't be able to stop," I seethed, stepping forward.

I charged at him, doing a thrust to his head, which Jon stepped back with a lean-to avoid the blade. I continued the attack, only Jon was dodging every move. As the tip of Dark Sister almost got him in the shoulder. Doing another forward thrust, that Jon block. Both Valyrian swords colliding that made sparks fly. The impact caused me to spin, leaving me an exposed, yet Jon didn't take the opportunity.

Furious, I used the spin to thrust again at his face. Jon instantly blocks that our blades crossed over his shoulder. I spin again, putting the guard down position aiming for his leg. Once more, Jon managed to block it with a reverse grip. I was about to reach for my dirk, Jon noticed this, as he withdraws stepping back. He came down for a strike that I lifted up the sword to block. The strike was hard, that I went into a defensive position, spinning and doing a semi-block.

Our swords clash, causing a massive spark. Jon tried to use his strength, pushing me forward, knocking me off balance. He used too much momentum, leaving him exposed that I spin again about to get him in the torso, except he managed to block it. I jumped back trying not to leave myself exposed then thrust again. And as predicted, he blocked again. Only once did he attack me. Throughout the ordeal, he used blocks and ducks. It was getting on my nerves that he was not fighting. There were moments I left myself open, and he does nothing.

Suddenly Jon struck me with a backhand across the face. There was a chance for him to decapitated me; instead, he slaps me. Jon grabbed my dominant hand, as our blades cross. He pushed me forward, pinning me to a wall. Dark Sister across my chest while Longclaw still crossed was near my ear. If Jon exerts enough force, he has a chance to kill me.

Instead, he keeps me pinned. I glared at him in the bind we were in.

"They abandoned me just as they abandoned you," I seethed, trying to manipulate his emotions. "We're not so different."

Jon paused, hesitating.

I took this moment to draw out my dirk and stabbed him in the hip. Jon groaned, placing his left hand on the dirk. His strength weakens, allowing me to kick him off of me. At the same time, leveraging my sword along with his, getting it caught on the cross-guard and throw him off. I thrust again that he blocked once more. The fight continues with strikes and parries. His back was open that I went to strike. Jon spins his sword back on the flat while struck him. The impact was absorbed by the steel, yet the upper part cut the leather armor protecting him.

Jon glared at me as I glared at him. I took the opportunity to force the back of my left hand, pushing him down. Jon stumbled, falling to the ground. I strike down, about to stab him in the chest. Jon gasped, rolling to the side. He got up, putting some the distance between us.

Our fight continued. The conflict never-ending, as I try to reach for all his exposed opening with the dagger while our swords collided. I'm starting to have enough of this stupid game. I managed to nick his hand. That finally got Jon to fight back. He thrust forward that I managed to push it aside with my dagger. Only Jon did a telegraph strike, bringing a heavy downward strike with an underhand grip. I took several steps back to avoid it with Dark Sister across me to block it just in case.

It was a frenzy of strikes and blocks. Pushing swords away and seeking an opening. I haven't seen this energy since practicing with Bloodraven. Exhaustion was building up. The battle was dying down around us. Impossible to tell who was winning. When all of a sudden, there was a sound of a horn followed by the trotting of horses from the south gate. Jon and I were locked in a downward position. He did something unexpected and grabbed hold of the blunt region of Dark Sister, yanking it out of my hand. I stepped back; eyes widen seeing Longclaw aimed at my neck.

Men on horses trampled around my brothers and sisters. They held a banner of a black shield with a strip across that contained silver and gold squares. I glared at Jon, who panted as he continued to hold Longclaw at me. Jon glared back as his eyes told me it was over. He had his grip from an underhand before adjusting his grip to proper hold, making distance before lowering it.

I switched the dagger and went for the attack. In seconds, Jon had Longclaw flat side pressed against my chest, while his left hand restrained my right, twisting my wrist that held the dagger, pressing the blade against my neck. A small clang could be heard as the dirk was pressed hard along the torc preventing the kill. Jon panted, realizing what he has done. Any further and I be dead.

He stared at the torc, seeing the wolf ends. Dark eyes lingered to my neck, staring at the direwolf tattoo of my family. The reminder of who my ancestors were. His eyes widen, staring at me. I growl at him. I was about to attack him when he dropped the knife, maneuvering us around that his arm was around my neck. My wolf mask falling off. I tried to fight him off, but he continued to keep a tight hold around my neck, suppressing the air out of my lungs.

I tried to fight him, yet the air slip from my lungs with black spots until falling unconscious.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon panted as Imogen went limp in his arms. He collapsed on his knees, checking the wildlings condition. Thankful that he found her unconscious and not dead. At first, he tried to speak reason. When he realized she would not yield, then he went for the attack. He had her until her sneak attack. A moment to kill her. That is until he saw her torc and her tattoo. Why does a wildling have the Stark crest on her?

He panted as two of his brothers came over.

"Take her to the storage room and tie her up. Make sure there are no living animals in there," Jon ordered.

His two brothers nodded as they took both of Imogen's arms and dragged her away. Jon stood up, sheathing Longclaw before collecting Dark Sister. There was a commotion by one of the courtyards, as Jon came over to investigate. The men at the last moment were from House Overton based on the banner. They were the nearest House from the Wall. They must have seen the signal and heard the horn to come in the nick of time.

Anyway, Jon came closer to see there was another survivor. Jon was not surprised to see it was Tormund. The Wildling had a few arrows in his back while blood dripped down his face. Tormund held a sword wildly swinging it around while the Night's Watch surrounds him with swords and crossbows.

"Tormund," Jon called out tiredly. "It's over. Let it end."

"This is how a man ends," Tormund growled, as he attacked another Brother who had a sword.

Jon, having enough, took a crossbow from Gared Tuttle. He aimed it at Tormund, getting him in the thigh. Tormund tried to stand up, but Jon came over, kicking him down. The Wildling looked at him, surprised.

"Put him in chains," Jon ordered. "We'll question him and the Warg later."

Two brothers grabbed Tormund by the arms dragging him away.

Tormund glared at Jon, "I should have thrown you from the top of the Wall, boy!"

Jon turned around, walking over to the riders who came last minute. He handed over the crossbow to Gared. "Aye." Jon sighed as he continued to walk.

One of the riders got off his horse and removed his helm. The man was middle aged, with a beard and mustache. He had curly dark brown hair with silver strands scattered around. Dark brown eyes and bushy brow.

"Lord Overton," Jon greeted.

Lord Overton paused, staring at Jon, giving him a slight smile, "Jon, didn't expect you to be here."

"Neither I to you," Jon replied.

"Sorry for the poor timing," Lord Overton said. "We received a raven from Maester Aemon and came as soon as possible."

Jon nodded slightly, since Overton Keep was twenty or so miles south from Castle Black. The riders must have road nonstop to be here at this very moment. The wildlings had the upper hand until Overton's men arrived trampling the enemy down.

"The fact you made it with your men is enough," Jon assured.

Lord Overton nodded, "Get some rest, boy. There are more Wildlings to come."

Jon nodded, but after tonight and losing Ygritte he couldn't, not yet. Not wanting her body to be mistreated. He has lost brothers, and he lost the woman he loved. This battle needs to end before more lives are lost.

* * *

**This chapter was a massive headache for a week, maybe two. I hope you guys enjoy it. House Overton was mentioned in the ASOIAF. There are no mention characters in the books or where they are at. So, I thought making House Overton to be a noble family that lived near the Wall. I mean, if there are towns and villages that live near the Wall, then there should be a noble to live by as well. Not just House Umber.**

**Inspiration on some fight scenes for Imogen are inspired by The Witcher**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	19. Chapter 18: The Two Kings

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Two Kings**

**Jon's POV**

Dawn has risen, and Jon could not sleep. The dead were being collected as the Wildlings were piled up. There was no doubt, if Lord Overton and his men did not arrive, they would all have lost. One ax to the elevator cable and his brothers would be trapped on top of the Wall, while the Wildlings cross through under their feet. In the end, it was a pointless battle on both sides.

Jon knew the wildlings came south to escape the Others.

However, their method is not suitable. Especially when there are Wildlings who would harm the realm. From what he is aware, Tormund is a general. But Imogen, she is a Chieftain's daughter. In civilize terms, she was a Lady. A Lady of Lunar Haven. Maybe he can trade the two for the Wildlings to leave at once. If that doesn't work, then Jon must consider killing Mance Rayder.

The Wildlings are down south because of Mance Rayder. He remembers his father saying to stop a snake from biting you, you better chop off its head. If Jon can kill Mance, then the Wildlings will go after each other and turn back to their territories.

He headed up to one of the storage rooms, where Imogen was kept. She was unconscious while Maester Aemon was examining the warg's neck.

"How is she?" Jon asked.

"She has a slight cut on her neck, nothing a simple salve and bandage won't cure. Any further and she could have bled out," Maester Aemon answered.

Jon sighed in relief. The last thing he needed on his conscious was killing a woman. There are two things Ned Stark told him to never kill. A woman and/or a child. There were more questions he wanted to ask her. Mainly, why does a wildling have a House Stark crest on her neck and torc?

"Maester Aemon…" Jon started, then stopped.

"Yes, Jon?" Maester Aemon replied.

"Do you know about the Sealgairean?" Jon asked.

Maester Aemon was quiet for a moment. He slowly got up with the assistance of his steward, before heading out. Jon followed him as they went outside.

"The Sealgaireans were once the First Men. Once brothers to the Night's Watch, only to be forgotten over time." Maester Aemon explained. "Now, we hunt their children, and they fight to survive."

Jon stared at Maester Aemon, surprised. Maybe Ygritte was right. The Wildlings were people born on the wrong side of the Wall, being children of Hunters who went after White Walkers after the Long Night. And this was their reward, disregarded as savages. Jon sighed, six thousand years of betrayal and now he must do it again. To send the Wildlings back to the slaughter.

"Fear does things to people. Even blinds them to who the real enemy is," Maester Aemon said.

"Thank you, Maester Aemon," Jon said before leaving.

Sam spotted Jon and came over to him along with Ghost. Jon patted his furry brother to calm his nerves. What he was considering will be the death of him. A suicide mission even. Yet, it doesn't matter now, since Ygritte was dead. Her death was on his hands. He might as well be the one to pull the arrow.

"We held them off," Sam noted.

"For one night," Jon reminded.

"This is a great victory," Sam said.

"A great victory?" Jon asked. "Mance was testing our defenses. He almost made it through, and he has more giants. He has more mammoths. He has a thousand times as many men." He looked at the courtyard seeing death. "They'll hit us again tonight." He walked through the courtyard. "Maybe we can hold them off for a day or two, but we'll never beat them."

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, following his friend.

"Going to find Mance," Jon answered.

"To fi—" Sam was dumbfounded by his friend's answer. "You can't do that. No one gave you any orders."

Jon turned around, staring at Sam. "Who's left to give orders? The Wildling's army are only an army because of Mance. He united a hundred warring tribes. Without Mance, they lose their leader. They lose their purpose. They go back to fighting each other. Scatter back to their homes."

Jon continues to walk towards the tunnel. Ghost right next to him.

"Without Mance?" Sam asked, going after him. "You're going to kill him?"

"I'm going to try," Jon answered.

"They'll never let you within a hundred yards of him," Sam tried to reason. "And even if they did, even if you managed to kill him –"

"They'll kill me?" Jon challenged. "If I don't go, they'll kill me anyway. They'll kill the rest of us too."

"They won't just kill you," Sam said, which made Jon stop. "They'll boil you. They'll flay you. They'll make it last days."

Jon turned around, facing him, "You're right. It's a bad plan."

Sam nodded, relieved.

"What's your plan?" Jon asked.

Sadly, Sam didn't have one.

Jon sighed as he and Ghost enter through the tunnel. Sam followed after them, grabbing a torch along the way. They walked halfway through the tunnel, seeing what has happened down below. A giant laid dead, surrounded by five brothers of the Night's Watch. Jon felt more guilt since he sent Grenn down below to fight the giant. Jon knelt over to Grenn, checking his condition, confirming his death.

"They held the gate," Jon sighed, closing Grenn's eyes. "Get some brothers down here to help you."

Realizing they died between the Wall. "We need to burn the bodies."

Sam nodded in agreement.

They continued onward, reaching the other side of the Wall where the metal door was.

"Raise the outer gate," Jon ordered. "Then lower it again as soon as I'm out."

Sam wanted to protest but didn't. He raised his torch, signaling the men on the other side to raise the gate. When he turned around, he saw Jon unfastening his belt.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"I promised Mormont I'd never lose it again," Jon said, removing Longclaw and handed it over to Sam. "In case I don't come back."

Sam took hold of the sword.

"If I fail, try to negotiate with them with the prisoners. Imogen is Chief Fenrir's daughter. She holds some value." Jon said. "Make sure no animals are in her sight, including a Snowy Owl."

"Because she can control animals?" Sam asked to confirm.

Jon nodded.

Ghost whimpered, nudging Jon's hand. Jon petted the white Direwolf's head. "You got to stay here, my friend. Watch over Sam for me."

Ghost whimpered again but nodded.

The gate started to lift, allowing access to the other side of the Wall.

"Jon," Sam started.

Jon looked over his shoulder.

"Come back," Sam pleaded.

Jon gave his best friend a smile. Once the gate was fully open, he took a deep breath and walked through the brightness of the snow. He walked through the field, seeing the dead all around him. The Wildlings either shot by arrows or burned from the pitch barrels. A giant laid in the center of the rout, a ballista arrow in his back, as crows and ravens peck into the massive man's flesh. Jon took a deep breath as he continued onward towards the Haunted Forest.

However, something did not feel right. When he was managing the Wall, he heard countless Direwolves howling through the night. Now there was no direwolf in sight. The further he went, he noticed a decrease in the Wildling forces. Either many clans gave up and abandoned Mance, or they were relocated. As Jon went further, he could hear footsteps right behind him. It wasn't until he came into contact with Chief Fenrir with two Direwolves on each side of him. He glanced at the wolf's eyes, seeing Skadi with both multicolor eyes and Valko with amber eyes. None being Warged.

"I came to speak with Mance Rayder," Jon said.

Chief Fenrir continued to look at him.

"Your daughter is still alive," Jon tried to reason with him.

Fenrir only nodded as he said something in the old religion to the wolves that had them step aside. Jon was impressed by the relationship the Dires have with their wolves. He had hoped to have the same relationship with Ghost. Especially when he was their size, that one day he could ride him. He shook his head, knowing that won't be possible. Fenrir gestured for Jon to follow as they went further into the camp.

Standing in the center of the camp stood Mance Rayder with a disapproving expression, "You're wearing a black cloak again."

"I've been sent to negotiate with you," Jon lied.

Mance held a neutral look, reading the young man's face. Not saying a word, he gestured Jon inside his tent. They went inside along with the chieftains, where a giant rabbit was being cooked. Mance motioned Jon to sit down at the low table. Jon took a seat while Mance sat across from him.

"It appears my trusting nature got the better of me," Mance noted. "It's happened before. I was hoping your loyalty was real when you pledged yourself to us, Jon Snow. Truly I was."

"The Halfhand ordered me to join your army and bring back whatever information I could to Castle Black. He made me kill him, so you'd trust me. I was loyal . . . to him and to my Night's Watch vows," Jon said.

"All your vows?" Mance asked sarcastically.

Jon knew he was referring to Ygritte.

"She wasn't enough to turn you, eh?" Mance asked again. "Were you enough to turn her?"

Jon gave a slight smile, "She put three arrows in me when I escaped."

"Did you see her again at Castle Black?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"She's dead."

"Your doing?"

"No."

Mance sighed, "We'll drink to her."

Fenrir grabbed two cups and a pitcher, placing it on the table. Mance poured the two drinks, handing Jon a cup, and took his own. Jon was hesitant as he held the cup. Not sure if it was poisoned or not. The liquid was white with a sharp smell to it. The Brother of the Night's Watch glanced at the cup and back to Mance. The King-beyond-the-Wall took offense.

"Of all the ways I'd kill you, poison would be the last," Mance bitterly said.

Jon nodded, accepting the cup, raising it as both said, "Ygritte."

They took a gulp of their drink. Mance took it like it was a glass of milk. However, Jon nearly gagged. It was sour and bitter, with a hint of sickening sweetness. As if maple was used, if not more potent than wine, or even whiskey. The chiefs nearly snicker from the young Crow's reaction.

"That's not wine," Jon wheezed, coughing a bit.

"No, it's a proper northern drink, Jon Snow," Mance proudly said. "You did well. Fought hard. Killed some of our strongest men. One of our giants went into your tunnel and never came out again. Mag the Mighty."

"He's dead," Jon confirmed. "He killed my friend Grenn."

"He was their King. The last of a bloodline that stretches back before the First Men." Mance told him.

"Grenn came from a farm," Jon countered back.

Mance bit his bottom lip and raised his cup, "Mag and Grenn."

"Grenn and Mag," Jon repeated as they both took a sip.

"Kullback, could I trouble you something to eat? I don't imagine our guest has eaten anything for quite some time," Mance offered.

Jon watched Kullback grabbing a knife and headed to the firepit.

"So, you're here to strike a bargain?" Mance continued.

"Turn your army around and go home. We will give you the hostages of Tormund and Imogen in return," Jon offered.

"You know I know you're low on arrows, you're low on oil, you're low on men. How many are left, fifty?" Mance countered.

"I told Tormund and Orell." Jon calmly said. "We have more than a thousand men."

"And Imogen caught your bluff," Mance said with authority. "She infiltrated your base and reported to me. I showed you everything I had. My army is 100,000 strong and what did you do? You fired on us with everything you had. It wasn't much. As soon as I saw that, I sent 400 men to climb the Wall, an unmanned stretch five miles west of here."

Kullback slammed his knife down and set a plate of rabbit in front of Jon. Jon glanced the knife then back at Mance. Four hundred men were climbing the Wall as he speaks.

"A lot of them will die climbing, but most of them will be over by the end of the day," Mance finished.

"House Overton has arrived," Jon warned.

"Good, we love a challenge," Mance countered. "It's me being honest with you, Jon Snow, which is more than you've done for me. My people have bled enough. We're not here to conquer. We're here to hide behind your Wall. Just like you. We need your tunnel. Now we both know that winter is coming. And if my people aren't south of the Wall when it comes in earnest, we'll all end up worse than dead. You want to strike a bargain with me? Here's the bargain. You go back, you open the gates to us, and I swear to you that no one else will die. Refuse, and we'll kill every last man at Castle Black."

Jon glanced at the knife. However, it was very noticeable that the chiefs drew their weapons.

"Ah!" Mance ordered, raising his hands to stop them. He then stared at Jon, amused, "Oh, that's why you're here. I reckon you could do it before any of them could stop you. They'd kill you, of course. They'd kill you slow. But you knew that when you came in here. Are you capable of that, Jon Snow? Killing a man in his own tent when he's just offered you peace? Is that what the Night's Watch is? Is that what you are?"

A horn blow indicating an attack.

"Riders coming!" Someone yelled outside.

Mance grabbed the knife and forced it along Jon's neck, "Are you attacking us? House Overton?"

"No," Jon managed to answer. "It's like you said, we don't have the men."

The horn kept blowing, dogs and wolves howl and bark. Mance shoved Jon aside and went outside to see what the commotion was about. Jon rubbed his neck before Fenrir grabbed him by the arm and forced him outside. Everyone was getting into position. Jon could hear the sound of horses. The sound of a cavalry charge.

"Hold! To me," Mance ordered. "To me!"

The chiefs and others circled around Mance. Fenrir got Valko and Skadi to circle around them, adding more protection. The sound of the calvary charged came from both sides of the small portion of the Haunted Forest. Not even a minute, horses came from both ends charging away. Men swinging swords and spears cross through, trampling over the Wildlings, killing all in sight.

Jon noticed a banner wondering which House the calvary came from. This was not from a Northern House. Since it was a white banner that had a crowned black stag enclosed within a fiery red heard. The stag looked almost like House Baratheon. Only Jon recalled House Baratheon was a crowned black stag on a golden field. Yet the current House Baratheon has the crown Stag with the Lannister lion. So, this one was from a cadet branch.

It was like a stampede, horses galloping away with armed men slaying everyone in their wake. Nothing Jon has never seen. It wasn't long when their tactics change of killing those who dare charged at them. The calvary were merely wrangling the wildlings around. Except Jon noticed there aren't a hundred thousand men here. He knew four-hundred men are climbing the Wall as they speak. But where are the other's?

Mance threw his sword and dagger down, "Stand down! I said my people have bled enough and I meant it."

Two riders approach them. One wore a Stormlander armor, with the sigil on his chest plate. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and sinewy. Along with dark blue eyes and a heavy brow. His head has only a fringe of grey hair "Like the shadow of a crown", and he has a close-cropped beard across his large jaw. His face has a tightness to it like cured leather, and he has hollow cheeks, and thin, pale lips. Jon realized this man was Stannis Baratheon.

Meanwhile, the second man wore leather armor with a gorget. The second man was a slight man with brown eyes and an ordinary face weathered by the elements. His beard and thinning brown hair are peppered with gray.

They dismounted from their horses and approach the group with their guards. One Wildling was foolish enough to charge right at them with an ax. Not even ten feet away, a soldier on a horse trampled though, decapitating the dumb man. The two men walked around the body, coming forward.

Mance knowing defeat was near, took out his hidden daggers. The chieftains followed his example. Skadi growled at them, which made the soldiers draw their weapon. Yet, Fenrir managed to calm the black direwolf down.

"You're the King-beyond-the-Wall?" Stannis asked.

Mance only nodded.

"Do you know who I am?" Stannis asked.

"Never had the pleasure," Mance replied.

"This is Stannis Baratheon, the one true king of the Seven Kingdoms," the second man said.

"We're not in the Seven Kingdoms, and you're not dressed for this weather," Mance challenged.

"It is customary to kneel when surrendering to a King," Stannis informed.

Silence engrossed the group as Mance stared at Stannis. Jon wasn't sure what the Wildling would say. Since he recalled, when he first met Mance, the Wildlings do not kneel to anyone. Not even to a King.

"We do not kneel," Mance said.

"I'll have thousands of your men in chains by nightfall, have nowhere to put them, have nothing to feed them," Stannis warned. "I'm not here to slaughter beat dogs. Their fate depends on their King."

"All the same, we do not kneel," Mance murmured.

Stannis remained poised, turning to one of his officers, "Take these men away."

The second man noticed Jon, "What's is a man of the Night's Watch doing in a wildling camp?"

Jon watched as the officers took custody of Mance. Some tried to approach Fenrir, yet the wolves growl, causing the soldiers to step back.

"I was sent to discuss terms with the King-beyond-the-Wall," Jon answered.

"You're speaking to the one true King, boy," the Second man scolded. "You will address him as Your Grace."

"I know he's the King. My father died for him," Jon assured, staring directly at the man. "My name is Jon Snow, Your Grace. I'm Ned Stark's son."

Stannis stared at Jon, "Your father was an honorable man."

"He was, Your Grace," Jon said.

"What do you think he'd have done with him?" Stannis asked.

Jon stepped forward, glancing at Mance, then return to Stannis, "I was this man's prisoner once. He could have tortured me. He could have killed me. But he spared my life. I think my father would have taken him prisoner, listen to what he had to say."

Stannis stared at Jon then looked at Mance, "Very well then. Take him."

The second man took hold of Mance.

"Your Grace," Jon said, gaining the king's attention. "If my father had seen the things that I've seen, he'd also tell you to burn the dead before nightfall. All of them."

In Jon's dark eyes, Stannis could see the horrors. The King nodded to the man knowing to burn the bodies is the only option.

Time went on, as the chiefs were taken into custody except for Fenrir. The wolves were making it difficult for the soldiers to grab him. The soldiers were terrified by the direwolves side to approach. When all of a sudden, Skadi was thrashing and wailing. Like she was in pain. Fenrir tried to calm the black she-wolf. Jon approached, wondering what was wrong. Fenrir glared at Jon.

"What are you doing to my daughter?" the Dire demanded.

Jon realizing the black direwolf was connected to Imogen, and she was in pain. He thought back, thinking Imogen was in good hands of Maester Aemon. Then he realized Imogen was known as the Wilding Huntress. She had killed many of the Night's Watch to protect herself. There would be a strong vendetta.

"What's going on?" Stannis ordered.

"One of our prisoners is in trouble," Jon explained. "She is the chief's daughter."

Stannis's eyes widened and looked at Fenrir, seeing a father in distress.

"If you and your wolves cooperate, I will help your daughter," Stannis promised.

Fenrir growled before submitting.

Jon knew a father would do anything for their daughter. He has seen it with Ned for Sansa and Arya. Quickly, Stannis offered horses to Jon and Fenrir, yet the chief got on the back of Valko. With a company, the road back to Castle Back to stop whatever was happening.

Jon had a sick feeling in his stomach.

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

I woke up in some sort of storage room. There was barely any light coming from the window that was high up on the wall, almost touching the ceiling. My body was sore, while my neck had the worse. Then I remembered why my throat hurt.

At first, I lost the fight with Jon, as he held the dirk against my neck, except my torc stopped it. He stared at my neck, gazing at the tattoo that made his eyes widen. Like he saw a ghost. Instead of killing me on the spot…Jon put me in a headlock, suffocating me into unconsciousness.

Now here I am, trapped in a room. My hands tied up along with my ankles. I touched my neck, feeling a bandage there. This caught me by surprise. Someone treated my wound. I could smell the scent of herbs. Why would the Night's Watch treat my injury?

This doesn't make sense.

Then another memory hit me, I covered my mouth to suppress a sob. Ygritte was dead. My eyes sting, becoming watery while my body quaked. My best friend. My sister was dead. Shot in the back by an arrow. Deep down, I wanted to cry, mourn for Ygritte. She was not supposed to die. She was supposed to live and conquer the world. Yet she was killed by her own favorite weapon.

We grew up together since we were little girls. Every time my tribe visited her for trade, we were there for each other. Even after five years apart, she helped me back into society. Although my social interaction is not the same as it used to, she helped me reconnect with others.

And now she's dead.

How can this have gone wrong? We had the upper hand. More men to defeat the crows on the ground level. Someone should have been close enough to confiscate the elevator to prevent the Crows on top from coming down and open the gate. I grabbed my hair, giving a frustrated cry. I've failed. I have failed my people. Hopefully, Mance is sending more men on over the Wall. The next attack would probably be three days from now. The only question is, will I be alive until then?

I need to figure out a way to escape.

My hands were bound in front of me. I tried to feel my body searching for any weapons the Crows might have missed. Sadly, they took the hidden knife that I kept in my boot. My dirk, and worse…Dark Sister. I promised Bloodraven I wouldn't lose it. It was sacred. I ground my teeth furiously.

Suddenly the doors burst open as four Crows stepped in. Two young men, one man older balding, with white hair, and lastly, Alliser Thorn. He held a scowl as he limped his way over, grabbing the collar of my coat.

"So, you're the Wildling Huntress," Alliser sneered.

I glared at him.

Alliser looked over his shoulder, "You boys got beaten by a woman."

"She's a witch," one of the baby crows head.

I scoffed, a witch?

"Well, we better give this wildling bitch a lesson," Alliser said. "Take her outside."

He dropped me hard on the ground. The young Crows each grabbed my arms and force me out. I tried fighting them off, yet they had a strong hold on me. They tossed and dragged me through the courtyard, where the remaining Crows were. They took me to a post. My furs were ripped off, followed by the ripping of the back of my tunic. I growled since my hands were free for a moment to punch one in the face. Yet more men came in grabbing me.

I fought, biting, punching, and kicking until one punched me in the stomach, knocking the air out of me. I choked, trying to breathe, falling onto my knees. The two forced me up, taking the rest of my tunic and shackle me to the post. My back exposed to the world. There were several gasps, as the Crows could the markings of the Children of the Forest. The runes that held magical quality. Along with the prophecy on my back.

"Demon child," Alliser sneered.

"Ser Alliser, you can't," the voice of Samwell could be heard as he rushed over. "She is a prisoner."

"And all prisoners must be punished," Alliser said.

"But she's a woman, you can't be serious," Samwell pleaded. "This goes against our vows. Maester Aemon- "

"Oh fuck off, Sam," another crow shouted, shoving Samwell away.

Alliser came over as he stood next to me, grabbing my face to look into his eyes.

"I prefer to work on a blank canvas," Alliser murmured. "It makes one more able to mark the progress of damaged inflicted. "

My body shook.

"You're shaking," Alliser noted. "Are you scared?"

"I've seen worse things," I seethed.

"I will break you," Alliser promised, followed by a punch in the gut. "If you weren't a wildling bitch, I would've let my men have you."

"Fuck you," I growled, trying to catch my bearings.

Alliser raised an instrument up. It was some sort of whip with nine strands. On each strand was a metal bead. A cat o' nine tail whips. Fuck, I'm screwed.

"I'll flog you until you bleed," Alliser promised. "For each brother, you killed."

I panted heavily. The chill from the cold weather raised my skin to goose flesh. Was this how I'm supposed to die? Flog to death and hypothermia? This proves the Southerners were the savages.

Another man came forward.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"Lord Overton, this is Night's Watch punishment," Alliser explained.

"You are going to flog a woman?" Lord Overton exclaimed.

"I bet you flog your servants," Alliser countered. "You have no control over here. Now stand aside."

I took a deep breath, quietly praying to the old gods and closed my eyes. The jingle of the metal tips colliding into one another. The adjustment of leather in Alliser's hand. Then the sound of cutting air, as nine strands from the whip smacked hard along my back. I gasped, clenching the chains as my back arch. A searing pain went through my spine. Not even a second after, Alliser snapped his wrist, flogging me again, only this time it was worse.

I cried out, then bit my tongue suppressing any noise to give this sadist his satisfaction. I did what I had to do in the True North to survive. Every time I cross paths with a Crow, they try to rape and or kill me. I even spared many Crows with a warning.

Another snap, like pain, punctures me. I bit my lip to a point I was tasting blood. My hands grasping the shackles for support and elevate the pain. I refused to cry out. The whip cracking over and over again. My legs would give way now and then, yet I force myself up.

Four more snaps, as the tangs cut into my skin. The gashes oozed warm blood ran down my side. The tears fell as I sobbed. My legs giving up from me. The pain was unbearable. I closed my eyes, trying to vanish. Allow my mind to go numb. There was no animal in sight to warg into.

There was a caw. An eagle shrieks. I glance over my shoulder, seeing Orell, swooping down scratching at Alliser's head, before going back to the sky. The Master of Arms raised the flog, about to strike, when Orell swooped down again. He took possession of the whip, making it far away. I panted, my legs giving up. My weight forcing my body down, causing pain in my wrists from the shackles.

Everything seemed to fall silent. Or maybe I fell into shock. All I know the flogging has stopped.

"Riders!"

The sound of horses.

"What's the meaning of this!"

My conscious going in and out.

An arm was wrapped around my hips, supporting my weight. I glanced to my left, seeing Fenrir. Fury was written on his face as he elevated my body weight to save my shoulder joint. Another set of hands helped, looking to my right, seeing Jon's face. His face expressed utter guilt.

"And who are you?" demanded Alliser.

"I am Stannis Baratheon, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms," Stannis said. "And I order you to release this prisoner."

"She has killed our men," Alliser sneered.

"And I'm sure you've killed many of hers," Stannis countered. "By the acts of war, women are never to be flogged or tortured. Release her now, or I shall have your head."

"Papa," I mumbled to my father.

"I'm here, Imogen," Fenrir whispered. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry," I sobbed before falling unconscious.

There was only comfort in the darkness.

* * *

**I'm going to end it there.**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	20. Chapter 19:Mourning for the ones we love

**_Warg Maiden_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones._**

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**Chapter 19: Mourning for the ones we loved.**

_Jon's POV_

Jon stood there in the room watching Maester Aemon treat Imogen. Her back was covered with cuts and lacerations. He didn't expect Alliser to flog a prisoner. Then again, he forgot that there was bad blood between the Night's Watch and the Wildling Huntress.

He should have asked some of his brothers to guard the door.

"How is she?" Jon asked.

"She is strong, though, they will scar," Maester Aemon answered.

Jon got closer to take a look. Imogen was given milk of the poppy to ease her pain. That was when he saw it. Ygritte mentioned that the Children of the Forest marked the Dire. Hearing stories of a Dire girl who disappeared from her clan for five years. Her body was covered in tattoos of runes he had never seen before. Let alone her back. The stained design swirled around, creating an image. What he could make out was a heart tree, surrounded by a direwolf at the bottom, a crow, and…a dragon. Wildlings do not know about Dragons. How can a Dire have a dragon marred on her skin? The tattoo remained where it was from the bottom of her neck down to her hips, like cuts and raised skin to decorate it.

"Have dragons ever came North beyond the Wall?" Jon asked.

"One when Queen Alysanne Targaryen wanted to see the True North, yet Silverwing refused. Three times she tried to go over, and three times Silverwing refused," Maester Aemon said, having knowledge of the Targaryens.

"Have any dragons gone beyond the Wall?" he asked.

Maester Aemon laughed, "They were cold-blooded lizards. They don't like the cold."

"So a wildling seeing a dragon is not possible?" he asked.

"Not in this lifetime," Aemon said with a sigh.

Jon only nodded, staring at the tattoo. Seeing the image and runes swirling around her skin like a story. If Ygritte saying that Imogen was raised by the Children of the Forest. Shouldn't the children have gone extinct? Last he recalled they died out after the First Long Night.

Imogen shuddered violently as her eyes fluttered open. She tried to sit up, but Jon placed his hands on her shoulder as did Maester Aemon. She cried out, not expecting it as her body slumped down.

"Easy," Jon murmured. "You need to lay down."

"Don't touch me," she hissed. "You Crow!"

Jon pulled back. He knows Imogen hates him with a passion, not because he betrayed the Wildlings, no because Ygritte was dead. The guilt was building up in his throat that the woman they love was dead. Jon lost his first love, but Imogen, she lost her best friend and sister.

"Get some rest," Jon said.

"I'll rest when I have your head," She growled.

Jon sighed as he walked over to the door. Until Imogen continued to seethe,"You broke her heart."

Jon took a deep breath and left.

**.o0o.**

The following morning a funeral was set for the Night's Watch. Nearly a hundred brothers have died, leaving barely a hundred in the Night's Watch. Then again, there were more wildlings deaths in this feud. In the pyre, he could see his friends: Grenn and Pyp. Grenn killed by a giant, Mag the Mighty, including Donnel Hill, Cooper, and three other brothers. Pyp…based on Sam's statement, an arrow through the neck. When Jon saw the arrow, he knew it was Ygritte shot.

He looked around, seeing Lord Overton watching with his men. Up on the inner curtains were King Stannis, with his family, Ser Davos, and a mysterious woman in red. All who heard the call and came to a stop this small invasion of survival. Especially Lord Overton's one-hundred men and Stannis three-thousand Baratheon Calvary and five-hundred Stormcrows.

However, when Jon saw the gathering of the prisoners, he noticed the hundred-thousand men who came in the night were not there in the morning. Many believe the Wildlings grew some sense and abandon Mance. Yet Jon has seen most of the tribes. One tribe that doesn't make sense was the Dires. He had heard the direwolves howl through the night. When he came to the wildling camp, only Skadi and Valko were there. Fenrir hasn't spoken, not since witnessing his daughter being flogged. So Jon needed to figure out where the rest of the Wildlings went.

Maester Aemon stood on the platform glancing at the directions their fallen Brothers were. Resting his hands on the beam giving the Night's Watch Funeral eulogy.

"They came to us from White Harbor and Barrowton, from Fairmarket and King's Landing, from north and south, from east and west. They died protecting men, women, and children who will never know their names. It is for us to remember them. Our brothers, we shall never see their like again."

"And now their watch is ended," the brothers of the Night's Watch praised.

"And now their watch is ended," Maester Aemon concluded.

Sam helped Maester Aemon down from the platform and brought it to the pyre. Sam handed Maester Aemon a torch. Slowly Maester Aemon sets the torch down, starting the fire to burn the decease. The Maester handed the torch back to Samwell, who walked around, giving it to Jon. Jon accepted it as he stepped forward, igniting his side of the pyre before handing the torch off to Edd. The torch continued to be passed around so their fallen can rest in peace.

During the cremation, Jon felt eyes on him. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing King Stannis watching him. He changed his focus back to the pyre, watching the flames grow and consumed his brothers. Until a pair of blue eyes caught his attention. Not from a wight, but the mysterious woman in red. She looked at him like she was staring into his soul. Jon hated that feeling.

**.o0o.**

Once the funeral service was over, Jon headed to the storage room where the prisoners were kept. Only a dozen wildlings from the South gate survived. All shackled and bound unable to escape. He walked around until he came up to Tormund.

"Your old blind man patched me up," Tormund said. "Why?"

"He's sworn to treat all wounded men, friend or foe," Jon replied.

"You want me alive so you can torture me? Like you torture Imogen?" Tormund growled.

"No one's gonna torture you," Jon promised.

"So how do we die? Hanging? Beheading? Drop us from the top of the Wall?" Tormund asked.

Jon took a deep breath, "I don't know what happens to the prisoners."

Tormund stared at him, "Who decides?"

"I suppose Stannis does," Jon guessed.

"He your king now?" Tormund asked.

"I don't have a king," Jon answered.

Tormund looked at him with a small smirk, "You spent too much time with us, Jon Snow. You can never be a kneeler again."

Jon took another deep breath, "We're gonna burn the bodies of your dead. Do you want to say any words over them?"

"Words? What kind of words?" Tormund asked, confused.

"Funeral words," Jon answered. "I don't know how the free folk do it."

"Do what?"

"Say farewell."

"The dead can't hear us, boy," Tormund said with disappointment.

Jon merely nodded before heading out of the storage room. That was when Tormund called him out, "Snow!"

Jon stopped turning around to face him.

"Did you love her?" he asked.

This took Jon off-guard, not expecting it.

"She loved you," Tormund announced.

"She told you?" Jon asked.

"No," Tormund chuckled then sighed, "All she ever talked about was killing you. That's how I know. She belongs in the North. The _real_ North. You understand me?"

Jon stared at him for a moment before leaving the storage room. He headed back to check on Imogen. Two Baratheon soldiers were guarding the door. Stannis had assigned them there to ensure none of the Night's Watch could lay harm on her. They let Jon in, seeing Imogen still lying on her stomach. This time bandages wrapped around her upper body. Meanwhile, her legs were shackled, making running impossible.

She turned her head, looking at him. Jon noticed her lip was split, wondering how she got it. At this moment, she appeared like a vulnerable woman. Not a wildling.

"What do you want, Crow?" Imogen asked, her voice hoarse.

"I'm going to burn Ygritte's body in the real north. Do you want me to say any words to her?" Jon asked.

Imogen remained quiet as she looked at him with her grey eyes. Jon could almost compare them dull silver surrounded in an onyx ring. There was a sharpness, almost predatorial to the Dire. Like she has seen through hell and back. The same stare his father, Ned Stark, once held.

"I'm sorry," he said trying to bring comfort.

Imogen took a deep breath yet said nothing.

Jon considered Tormund's words. He was about to leave until Imogen stopped him.

"My bracelet," she managed to say. "Burn it with her."

Jon was confused until he came over to her left side, where a bracelet stood out. It was made out of leather and bone. The bones being carved in the shape of an arrowhead. He silently asked if that is the one, which she nodded slightly. Jon didn't know if it was a trap, so quickly, he took it off.

"If there is a weirwood tree or heart tree, burn her there," Imogen mumbled, her eyes watering.

Jon wished he could take Imogen to join for the cremation. But she was a prisoner, and her condition prevented her from traveling. With nothing else to say, he left.

**.o0o.**

Jon got Ygritte on the stretcher, attaching it to the horse. He will not have Ygritte burned in a pile of bodies. Alliser made sure the Wildlings get the dishonorable funeral. Only Lord Overton took over, saying he will deal with the enemies' dead. Jon was thankful for Lord Overton. The man was about fairness, the same as Ned Stark. The Lord may be of a small house, a lesser house, but the man has seen many wars and treated his fallen and capture enemies with respect. Even King Stannis has allowed the Lord to take control.

"Jon," Lord Overton said, coming over.

Jon tensed as the honorable Lord came over, glancing at Ygritte's body then at the young man.

"Got to give the Wildlings credit, their women fight harder than their men," Lord Overton said.

"I need to burn her outside of here," Jon said.

"You know her?" Lord Overton asked.

Jon can only nod, his face giving him away.

Lord Overton sighed, "Be back before sun down."

Jon was surprised by this. He thought Lord Overton would turn him in for stealing a body.

"But you need to be careful," Lord Overton said. "This is your first battle, and it won't be the last. And what I can see, the Night's Watch is going to hell. Hopefully, a certain man can save it before shite blows over."

Jon once more was surprised by this.

"Better get going, before Alliser or Slynt notices," Lord Overton added. "And take your wolf. We may have the Chief of the Dires and his daughter…from what I hear…they're one pack you don't want to mess with."

With nothing else, so say, Jon left calling on Ghost as Sam and Edd helped him get him through. Jon knew he made mistakes. He should have made peace, negotiate the Wildlings, Mance talking to the council. There were barren areas the Wildlings could inhabit. Yet, Jon followed orders. His Brothers are aware of the wights. They have seen them with Othor risen from the dead to attack Commander Mormont, or when three hundred brothers went North and only four came back.

Ghost whimpered, sensing Jon's internal struggle. Jon leaned down from his horse to pet Ghost on the top of his head. They headed to a weir wood tree. Ghost took guard watching out for any Wildlings while Jon made the pyre. Jon felt sick in his stomach, hating what has happened.

Once he was done, he laid Ygritte on the pyre. He took her hand and tied the bracelet on it. It's the least he can do for Imogen. A sound of a hoot caught his attention as he looked up to see a Snowy Owl with grey eyes staring at him. Somehow, he knew it was the Dire Warg. He watched as Imogen walked over to Ygritte's face nuzzling her neck. She gave a shriek; one he never heard an owl make.

"I'm sorry," Jon apologized, meaning it.

Imogen lifted her head, observing him. So many emotions swirling in the warg's eyes. Suddenly she took off, perching herself on the Weirwood tree looking down at the funeral. Knowing the warg does not want to talk, Jon took a deep breath-taking hold of the torch and lighting the pyre. Jon stared at Ygritte's face for the last time before walking away. He can't watch her burn.

He walked away, tossing the torch down and walking away. The tears started to fall, as he silently cried for the first time since Ygritte's death. He had to stay strong in front of the Night's Watch, the Wildlings, and the armies. Now he was alone, that he cried. Men are not supposed to cry, yet this was entirely different. The trauma he has gone through since joining the Night's Watch, he has been beaten, abused, attacked, held prisoner, and disregarded. All because he was a bastard, Ned Stark's son, and a Crow.

Maybe he should have taken Ygritte's suggestion of staying in the cave or run off once they made it over the Wall. If he only listened and damns his honor, Ygritte could possibly be alive. Then he took what Lord Overton said. Jon knew he has to fix this mess.

And one person can help him as he looked over his shoulder to see Imogen still in Frigg, who mourned for her friend.

He'll make this right for Ygritte.

**.o0o.**

_The True North._

Bran was being dragged by Hodor on a stretcher. Summer was up ahead being lookout, while Meera and Jojen were behind. They have been traveling through a storm. It is cold, far colder than ever. The further north they go, the chill slither up their spine. Their limbs weakening by the day. The only one who has strength was Summer, thanks to his fur.

Bran felt useless. His friends are doing all the work while he was stuck on a stretcher. He can see his friends growing weak from the cold. Maybe Imogen was right. It was best not to go after the Three-Eyed Raven. Bran could see Jojen struggling, trudging through the snow. Meera noticed.

"We can stop. We can rest," Meera advised resting her hand on his shoulder.

"We'll rest with the Three-Eyed Raven," Jojen said.

They were climbing up a hill when Jojen collapsed. Meera rushed over to him with worry. She realized the situation they were in, "We're not going to make it."

Jojen panted, looking around to realize this place was from his vision. The storm has masked it along with his exhaustion to realize it until now. On the other side of the hill will be a weirwood tree.

"We're already here," Jojen breathed.

Hodor and Bran had made it over to the top of the hill. He saw the weirwood tree on the other side of the frozen lake on a rocky hill. Stone pillars were surrounding it the weirwood tree, but when looking closer, Bran realized there was a carved face...a heart tree. The storm breaking, as it showed it was nearing dusk. The sun breaking through the clouds. There was a majestic atmosphere, a presence more powerful than the godswood at Winterfell. Is this the home of the Three-Eyed Raven?

"Jojen!" Bran called out. "Jojen. Look, Jojen. Look."

Meera helped Jojen up to reach the top of the hill seeing the weirwood tree. A sense of relief finally washing over them in reaching the tree of the Three-Eyed Raven. Jojen panted and stared at Bran, who smiled at him. They have made it.

However, Jojen still felt uneased, for in his vision, his body was on fire. He can sense death was near, and his end will be consumed by fire. He didn't say it allow to worry his sister. But still, he was apprehensive, especially with his spiritual mission to bring Bran here.

"There seems to be a passage underneath," Jojen noted. "Let's stop there for the night."

Everyone agreed, wanting to get out of the weather. They climbed down slowly and stopped at the edge of the frozen lake. Summer went ahead, as the four humans watched the direwolf testing the strength of the ice. Summer padded along, walking to the center jumping a bit, yet there was no sound of a crack. It appears the lake is entirely frozen.

When Summer came back, he took the lead in leading the humans across the frozen lake. They needed to get into the passage before they lose light. Hodor was in the lead, dragging Bran along, Meera in the middle of the lake, and Jojen finally stepping on the ice. Their weights balance out, just in case.

Jojen panted, feeling the pain on his side. He rested a hand, adding more pressure to reduce it. Thirty minutes and can finally rest. When all of a sudden, the ice cracked beneath his feet, and a rotten hand grabbed his leg, yanking him down. Meera heard him fall, turning around to see if he needed help, only to gasp when spotting a decaying corpse, near skeleton appeared, climbing out of the ice dragging Jojen further into the whole.

"Jojen!" Meera yelled, dropping her bag and rushed over. She grabbed his arms, yanking him up. "Come on!"

Hodor was confused.

"Help them!" Bran ordered. "Now!"

Hodor put Bran down and rushed over. When another skeleton hand burst out from the ice. He turned around, facing Bran afraid, "Hodor."

"Help them!" Bran yelled.

Meera finally got a good grip and got Jojen out of the cluster. A wight, practically a skeleton dressed in clothes of the First Men, appeared from the snow and charged in. It drew a dagger, jumping onto Hodor, trying to stab him. Hodor cried, trying to fight the demon off him. Meanwhile, the wight that decided to take Jojen leaped out, screeching at them. This was the first time all four of them seeing the real enemy. Seeing a wight.

The wight charged at them with the dragon glass dagger Samwell Tarly gave them at the abandoned castle. She dodged the ax, trying to stab the creature, yet it shoved her away. Jojen came in with the staff, only to go into the defensive as the wight slammed the ax in his direction. Using all of its force to cut the staff of the spear in two. The impacted knocked Jojen down. Meera got up, lunging at the wight, stabbing it in the jaw. It screeches, body convulsing then fell into many pieces.

However, another wight appeared with a sword coming in to attack Meera. Follow by another who showed itself in front of Bran. Its lower legs missing as it tried to crawl its way over to Bran. Hodor still tried to fight off his opponent as well. Meera managed to get her spear, swirling it around to make a difference with the wight who had the sword. Jojen got hold of the dragon glass and used what remains of his staff as a weapon. The legless wight managed to climb over Bran, hand clawing at his face, when Summer jumped it, shoving the creature off his master.

Another white appeared with a war hammer. It climbed onto Hodor, smacking him in the face. The simple giant was overwhelmed, unable to fight his two opponents. Bran realizing this, warged inside Hodor. Hodor paused, falling back to a peaceful memory while Bran took over. As blue eyes were replaced with brown. Bran took hold of the Hammer Wight, grabbing its arm and tossing him over. Next, he took two fingers, poking the first wight in the eyes by curling his fingers in the eye socket and yanked it off him. Another wight appeared, charging at him with a sword. He used the hammer, blocking the attacks.

Meanwhile, Meera was using the forgotten battle ax when her spear broke. She continued to fight the first sword wight, keeping it away from Jojen. She got the handle stuck in its ribcage when Jojen ran in to help. Meera pushed her brother away before getting the ax back and continued the confrontation.

Jojen sat up, seeing another disturbance in the ice as a sixth wight appeared. Charging its way at Bran in his vulnerable state. Jojen knew he won't be able to make it in time. If Bran turned Hodor's body to his original body, there would be a chance.

"Bran!" Jojen yelled. "Save yourself, now!"

A seventh wight appeared charging for Bran. When a ninth appeared, headless grabbing its dagger and stabbing Jojen in the stomach. Jojen's eyes widen, feeling a sharp frozen pain in his abdomen. Like a breath on a match flame, his energy went out. Shock taking over as the wight continued to stab him over and over and over again.

Bran and Meera managed to destroy their wights. However, they were too late, as Meera screamed, seeing her kid brother being killed. She shouted from the top of her lungs, destroying the hand and kicking the carcass away from Jojen. Bran looked over to his vessel seeing the two wights running towards him. Summer still fighting off his prey. Bran knew he couldn't make it. Just as the two wights were about to tackle Bran's vessel, an orb of light came down between destroying the wights and knocking Bran down. This knocked Bran back to his body, letting Hodor returned.

Bran adjusted himself, seeing his savior.

The person was female, shorter than most women, practically childlike. She had nut-brown skin that was dappled like a fawn with paler spot, large ears that were pointed like a leaf, large eyes that were in the shade of green and amber that were slits like a cat and owl. Her hair was tangled and was of different colors of red, brown, and yellow with vines and twigs in them. Her clothes made of bark, vines, and leaves as well, almost molding into her like a second skin.

"Come with me, Brandon Stark," the girl said.

Hodor and Summer were making their way over to help their master. Meanwhile, Meera adjusted Jojen in her arms, seeing the damages. There were a dozen stab wounds, as blood poured out.

"He is lost," the girl said. "Come with me or die with him."

Jojen mustered his strength to grab her coat, "Go with them."

Meera cried, for she didn't want to abandon her Brother. Soon more wights were bursting out of the snow. Having no other choice, she leaned down, kissing him, before taking the knife that stabbed her brother and slit his throat for a quicker death. Not able to mourn, she got up running towards the weirwood tree, not looking back. Hodor picked up Bran, carrying him inside the cave. The mysterious girl tossed another light orb that exploded, destroying a wight. Once Meera was up, close enough, the two girls ran inside.

The moment they got in, three wights burst through the cave only to disintegrate into ash. Bran, Meera, Hodor panted bewildered in what just happened. The mysterious girl curled behind the roots of the tree.

"They cannot follow us," the girl said. "The power that moves them is powerless here."

"Who are you?" Bran asked.

"The First Men called us the children, but we were born long before them," she said.

Bran remembers Old Nans stories, "You're a Child of the Forest."

The girl nodded, "Come, he waits for you."

The adrenaline rushed through their veins. They were in unknown territory. Where the dead can walk, and the Children of the Forest are still alive. Hodor picked Bran up while they followed the girl through the tunnels. Noticing the vines and roots everywhere along the walls and ceilings. Until finally, coming across a carved chamber was in the center was a gathering of roots where a man was entangled in them along with several crows resting around the older man. As they walked further in, noticing the pile of bones on the ground. Several of the children hidden around observing their new guests.

Hodor glanced at Bran for a moment, wondering what to do. Bran nodded to Hodor to put him down. Bran crawled his way till he reached the center by the tree. He looked at the old man.

"You're the Three-Eyed Raven?" Bran asked.

The man raised his head, "I've been many things. Now I am what you see."

Meera stepped forward, "My brother, he led us to you and now he—"

"He knew what would happen," the Three-Eyed Raven said in a calming manner. "From the moment he left, he knew and he went anyway."

"How do you know that?" Meera asked.

"I've been watching you. All of you. All of your lives. With a thousand eyes and one," The Three-Eyed Raven praised. "Now you've come to me at last, Brandon Stark. Though the hour is late."

"I didn't want anyone to die for me," Bran said.

"He died so you could find what you have lost," The Three-Eyed Raven countered.

"You're going to help me walk again?" Bran asked with hope.

"You will never walk again," The Three-Eyed Raven answered. "But you will fly."

_Fly?_ Bran thought, confused.

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**Thus, ends Season 4. Sorry that this is not an Imogen POV story.**

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review.**


	21. Chapter 20: Fire

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**_

_**A/N: We are now in Season 5**_

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**Chapter 20: Fire**

_Imogen's POV_

My back felt is like it was on fire—the heat burning upon the wounds in where Alliser flogged me. Even when I tried to escape through warging, the pain was too much. It was a battle to keep focus during Ygritte's funeral. Emotionally, mentally, and physically I was suffering. I lost my best friend. Someone I cared for like a sister. The tears couldn't stop pouring, yet other ways of expressing my sorrows were done.

Maester Aemon tried his best to tend to my wounds. Fenrir was allowed to be there for the beginning until he was pulled out to be with the other hostages. Mance Rayder had fallen, refusing to bend the knee. Whatever these southerners decide to do with us. From what Fenrir says, the Dires and other tribes have spread out. Follow by the tribes that were making their way south now and those waiting in Hardhome.

However, thanks to Jon Snow, the Free Folk are practically doomed. All we wanted was to survive. Not travel south to the Riverlands and the other Kingdoms. Maybe take the property of abandon villages along the Wall, in the end, away from the Others. But that will never happen now. My mother and brothers are North of the Wall. Once Boudica gets word from this failure…the Crows and Southerners will have hell to pay.

Boudica, Priestess of the Dire Tribe.

A slight smirk lifted my lips.

The sound of the door opened as a burst of cold wind entered then shut. I shuttered since I was still shackled to the bed while half undressed. Maester Aemon had placed a poultice on my back. I adjusted my head to see it was the Southern King. What was his name again? Oh, that is right, Stannis Baratheon. Next to him was a woman clad in red. A painful shudder went down my spine sensing a dark aura from this woman. Meanwhile, Stannis held Dark Sister. I inhale sharply, for that was my sword.

"Where did you find this sword?" Stannis asked. "The Night's Watch claim you were in possession of this sword."

I glared at him, "It's mine."

Stannis took a deep breath, "This sword is called Dark Sister. It once belongs to House Targaryen and passed along Kings and knights. It went missing over a hundred and fifty years by the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch Brynden Rivers. A Targaryen. I am a descendant from House Targaryen."

I continue to glare at him, "Bloodraven gave it to me."

Stannis scowled and looked at the Red Woman, "She's mad."

The Red Woman was beautiful, one that could describe deviant. She had long hair that was deep color od red, unsettling blue eyes, pale and unblemished skin. Her dress wasn't suited for this weather; it was slender, exposing her full breast and narrow waist. Something about her tells me she was touch by a divine source. However, it was not the same as the Old Gods.

The Red Woman stepped forward, placing a hand on Stannis's shoulder before coming closer, "Do not fret, she is still recovering."

She came closer, pulling off the poultice and stared at my markings. I couldn't see her reaction, but Stannis's grey/blue eyes widen.

"She has been touched by her false gods," The Red Woman announced. "Given the sight and communication with the beast."

"Still does not answer my question in where she found Dark Sister," Stannis said.

"Warg, where did you find this great sword?" The Red Woman asked.

As she said this, she dug her nails into my wounds. A shot of pain went up to my spine, followed by a burning sensation that came out of nowhere. I grabbed the mattress, grinding my teeth yet, yet her nails were like arrows digging deep. A scream escaped my lips.

"Where did you find this sword?" She asked again.

"It's mine," I cried out.

"Where did you find it?" she murmured.

The pain was unexplainable that I couldn't handle it, "In the Haunted Forest near the Fist of the First Men. Under a weirwood tree."

The Red Woman removed her nails out of my wounds, "Thank you."

I panted as the pain by her manipulation, leaving from the wounds themselves.

"And the remains?" Stannis asked.

"None…" I lied.

The Red Woman and Stannis stared at each other, then nodded. Assuming Bloodraven had become a wight. Despite how much I loathed The Three-Eyed Raven, and hurt by Bloodraven…but I can't betray them by sending these Southerners to the Weirwood tree. Not have them attack the Children of the Forest or Leaf. I closed my eyes, trying to blink away the tears.

"What should we do with her?" Stannis asked. "You say she is touched by the false gods."

"Leave her be," The Red Woman answered. "She can be of use one day in the Great War. You have claimed your sword."

I glared at them, wishing I had the strength to break free and kill Stannis to reclaim what is rightfully mine. Stannis merely nodded as he left the room. The Red Woman turned around facing me.

"Relinquish your false gods and accept the Lord of Light. Your gift is from him, not the trees who listen and do nothing in return," she said.

I growled at her, "They are everywhere. They may not have theatrics as your God, but they listen and give guidance. Their eyes are the trees, their voices are the wind, and the stones are their body. Nature is in them. And when one breaks sacred laws, they shall retaliate far worse than a storm."

The Red Woman gave a wicked smile, "Let see if your gods can save your King from mine."

"What?" I sneered.

"Mance Rayder has not yet bent the knee these past few days. If he not bends, then he will be given to the Lord of Light for his crimes."

"You can't," I nearly yelled. "You can't burn the living."

"To purify one's soul, you must," she murmured. "So, pray to your gods."

She then left, leaving me exposed. My eyes widen in the fear that a good man will be burned at the stake. The Free Folk only burn the dead. We never burn the living. The only time a living person gets burn is by tripping over a fire, or a home caught fire. Never to execute someone. Fire is a resource, not a weapon.

.**o0o**.

_Jon's POV_

Jon's wounds had healed. A bit tender on the spot where Imogen had stabbed him, yet Maester Aemon had stitched him up and provide the medicine he needed. Currently, he was training Olly. Jon had forgiven Olly for what he did to Ygritte. The boy thought he saw a wildling going to shoot Jon, and acted on impulse. Olly didn't know Jon had a lover. In the spur of the moment, the boy acted on what he thought was best for the Night's Watch. By saving his brother.

Olly was striking forward, banging his training sword on Jon's shield. Jon noticed the boy was lowering his shield, leaving him exposed. Jon twirled his right hand landing his sword on Olly's shoulder and tilted to the neck.

"Get your shield up," Jon scolded.

"It's too heavy," Olly complained.

"If it wasn't heavy, it wouldn't stop a sword," Jon explained. "Now, get it up."

Olly mustered his strength to lift the shield. Jon attacked the boy aiming for the shield to show an example of the importance of the shield. He gave five strikes, pushing the boy forward until he tripped, falling backwards in the mud. Jon set his sword aside and help Olly up onto his feet.

"Come. Try it again," Jon said, using Rodrik Cassels words, and place his hand on the boy's neck. "Drive at me. Keep your shield up. Or I'll ring your head like a ball."

Olly couldn't help but chuckle. Jon smiled, messing the boy's hair before getting into position. Jon will have confessed to having been trained by Winterfell's Master-at-arms Rodrik Cassel along with his father. How to use a sword. How to fight. How to use a bow and arrow. Practically taught to be a knight, if it wasn't for his blood status, Jon could've been a Knight.

The training continues as Olly went for the offensive attack as Jon blocked it, "Good, good, pivot. Don't forget to pivot."

Jon raised his shield as Olly gave a cry striking it while leaving his own shield down.

"Shield up," Jon scolded.

However, Olly was not paying attention to him but the person behind. Jon raised a brow as he turned around to see the Red Woman who smiled at him.

"The King wants a word," the Red Woman said.

Jon found this strange, wondering why King Stannis wanted a word with him? He was a bastard and a steward. Ser Alliser, Ser Janos, or Lord Overton have a better chance of talking to the King than he. Still not wanting to disobey a request, Jon called Edd to train Olly before following the mysterious woman. They went over to the iron cage elevator. The chains rattle as the men pulled them up.

Jon felt eyes on him as he turned his head to see the Red Woman staring at him, giving an uncomfortable smile. Jon turns his attention to the view.

"You're not cold, my lady?" he asked.

"Never," she answered. "The Lord's fire lives within me, Jon Snow."

She reached forward, removing his glove and placed his hand on her cheek, "Feel."

Jon noted that her cheeks were warm, but he knew windburn can make cheeks warm as well. Yet her skin shows no indication of being disturbed by the cold weather. He felt uncomfortable, removing his hand and put his glove back on.

"Are you a virgin?" She asked.

Jon kept his eyes forward as he answered, "No."

"Good," she replied pleased.

They soon reached the top of the wall towards the central platform. There King Stannis stood along with his Hand, Ser Davos, including Lord Overton. The three men were looking out towards the Haunted Forest.

"Your Grace," the Red Woman called out. "The bastard of Winterfell."

Showing his respect, Jon kneeled before Stannis. After a moment, Jon stood up, only to notice Dark Sister strapped to Stannis side. Jon knew that sword belongs to Imogen, and with her condition, she wouldn't be able to get it back. However, Jon felt like it was wrong for Stannis to take something that wasn't his.

Stannis stepped forward, "You know who rules at Winterfell now?"

Jon took a deep breath, "Roose Bolton."

Stannis nodded, "Mmm, the traitor who plunged a dagger in Robb Stark's heart. Don't you want to avenge him?"

"I want a great many things, Your Grace," Jon replied, controlling his impulse. "But I'm a sworn brother of the Night's Watch now. "

"I've been talking to your sworn brothers. Many of them love you," Ser Davos said.

"They're good men," Jon agreed.

"Many don't," Ser Davos added. "You were seen taking the body of a wilding girl north of the Wall."

"It's where she belonged," Jon explained, not looking at them.

"Some of the Night's Watch feel you have too much affection for the wildlings." Ser Davos continued.

"They were born on the wrong side of the Wall. Descended from the _Sealgairean_, the First Men who were brave to hunt down the White Walkers. That doesn't make them monsters." Jon explained.

"No matter," Stannis said. "I shall take back the North from the thieves who stole it. Tywin Lannister is dead. He can't protect them now. I shall mount Roose Bolton's head on a spike. But if I'm to take Winterfell, I need more men."

"The men of the Night's Watch are sworn to play no part—" Jon started.

"I'm not talking about the damn Night's Watch." Stannis interrupted. "I'm talking about the wildlings."

Jon's eyes widen. He knew the wildlings won't serve Stannis. Hell, it took Mance over twenty years to get the Wildlings to claim him King-Beyond-the-Wall. Let alone, Stannis slaughter their men and holding their King and chiefs' hostage. Stannis walked past him as Jon followed while the others followed from behind.

"Your Grace, you want the wildings to march in your army?" Jon asked in disbelief.

"If they swear to follow me, I'll pardon them. We'll take Winterfell. Once the North is won, I'll declare them citizens of the realm. I'll give them land to live on." Stannis promised.

"It's a fair offer. More than fair," Ser Davos agreed.

"I'll offer them their lives and their freedom if Mance kneels before me and swears his loyalty," Stannis added.

"I don't think that's likely," Jon said.

Stannis scoff as he continued walking, "You admire him, don't you?"

Jon went after Stannis, "I respect him."

"He likes you," Stannis noted. "Convince him to bend the knee…"

"Your Grace," Jon implored.

"…or he burns," Stannis threaten.

Jon's eyes widen, "How much time do I have?"

Stannis went over to the elevator with the Red Woman and Ser Davos. "Nightfall. The sun drops fast this time of year. Hurry, Jon Snow."

The Elevator went down.

Lord Overton came over, "How stubborn is Mance Rayder?"

"More stubborn than a mule," Jon confessed.

Lord Overton gave a whistle, "Do you need some help?"

Jon didn't know the answer. Deep down, he could use all the help he can get, but if Lord Overton comes into the room where Mance is kept. Then Mance will not cooperate. So, Jon shook his head.

Lord Overton nodded, "Let's get down, the winds are picking up."

Jon merely nodded as they headed towards the elevator and waited their turn. He was thankful Lord Overton was here. A familiar face out of all the new men here serving Stannis. He wonders if Lord Overton will be joining Stannis in taking back Winterfell. However, if Stannis managed to take down the traitors, who will run Winterfell? Practically everyone in House Stark is dead, other than Sansa, who is in Lannister custody, Arya missing, Bran somewhere beyond the Wall, and Rickon…somewhere in the North in hiding, based on Sam's statement. Does another loyal house have Rickon keeping him safe from the Boltons? Will Stannis return Winterfell to Rickon or had it over to a loyal subject.

Either way, Jon would be please if Stannis does have Roose Bolton's head on a spike. Bringing justice for Robb. The elevator came up as the two got inside and went down.

"Are you going with Stannis to take back Winterfell?" Jon asked.

"Your father believes he is the rightful king, I will join to do so," Lord Overton answered.

"Can I tell you a secret that you can't share with anyone?" Jon asked.

Lord Overton stared at him with a nod.

Jon took a deep breath, "My brother Rickon …he's alive. He is somewhere in hiding with a loyal servant."

Lord Overton's eyes widen, "Are you sure?"

Jon nodded, "Keep a lookout for him. He has more Tully traits than Stark. His Dire Wolf has a black fur coat, about Ghost's size. Rickon named him Shaggydog."

"I will keep a lookout," Lord Overton promised.

Jon nodded, appreciating it.

Once on the ground level, Jon made his way towards Imogen chamber to get some wisdom.

.**o0o**.

_Imogen's POV_

I laid on my stomach as Maester Aemon treated my back. Applying fresh salve on my back and checking the stitching. Along with Gilly and Samwell. My eyes stared at the big crow, seeing Joruman's horn attached to his belt. The very horn that could destroy the Wall.

I stared at the horn, knowing it has to be destroyed. How this Crow has not blown on it, is by some miracle he has not blown on it. The ancient magic could destroy the barrier from the True North from the South. The Free Folk may have failed in taking the Wall and saving thousands of souls. But I will make sure the Others can't cross the Wall so easily.

"I think it will be two more weeks before the back will heal properly," Samwell guessed, staring at my back.

"More like three weeks," Maester Aemon said. "A cat o' nine tail whips is a terrible tool to be used as a weapon."

I clenched my fists on the sheets.

"Oh, sorry," Samwell said, thinking he applied pressure on a tender wound.

"Sam," Gilly said.

"Gillyflower, I think you should apply the ointment," Maester Aemon suggested.

Samwell pouted as he got up, allowing Gilly to sit next to me to work on my back. The girl Ygritte and I spared and hidden. And here she was, comfortably close with the enemy. Seeing how she interacts with Samwell is clears she holds a romantic feeling. I wonder how far they have gone. Closing my eyes, feeling her hands applying the salve. When I felt the shackles on my ankles removed while Maester Aemon checked on the bruise.

I thought up with a plan.

I know it will probably get me killed or beaten. But it had to be done in order to keep the Others from crossing. The moment the shackles on my feet were gone, I snapped, shot up wrapping my chains around Gilly's neck, pulling her to me. A shot of pain rushes through my back while securing the chains glaring at Maester Aemon and Samwell.

"Gilly!" Samwell called out.

"Sam!" Gilly panicked.

He rushed over, but I tighten the chain, "I wouldn't come closer, or I'll snap her neck."

The door opens, then shuts quickly. Jon entered causally then stopped seeing the situation he stumbled in. He was about to open the door until I tighten the chains causing Gilly to gasp; this made Jon stop.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I sneered.

Jon removed his hand from the door handle and stepped forward, "There's no chance of escaping."

"I don't give a fuck," I growl. "I'm dead either way by Stannis or Alliser or the infection on my back."

"Then what do you want?" Jon asked.

I stared at Samwell, mainly the horn, "That horn your brother has, I want it."

"This?" Samwell pointed to the horn on his hip. "What's so important about it?"

"That is the Horn of Winter, Joruman's horn. Created by Bran the Builder and given to Joruman to secure the magic that lies within." I explained. "Any mortal lips on the tip will destroy the Wall and allow the Others to cross over. For a thousand years, the Free Folk have been searching for it. And a Fat Crow finds it."

"Hey," Samwell protested.

"So, you want to destroy the Wall?" Jon asked.

"No, I want to destroy the horn," I corrected.

All three men stared at me, surprised.

"I vowed to protect the living if my last act is delaying the Others from coming south," I growled.

"How do you know this is the horn you have been seeking?" Jon asked.

"When you have been touched by the Old Gods and the Three-Eyed Raven, you can sense the ancient magic," I answered. "So how about this, destroy the horn right now with Longclaw, and I will let go of Gilly."

"You have a chance to escape, and all you want is the horn destroyed," Jon asked to confirm.

I nodded.

Jon stared at me with those dark orbs contemplating about it. I know there is no chance of leaving Castle Black alive. I will help my people the best I can. Jon nodded, seeing the truth as he walked over to Samwell.

"Sam, give it," Jon said calmly.

Samwell nodded, removing the horn from his belt and handed it over to Jon. He took custody of the horn and stepped back, setting the horn on the ground and draw Longclaw. I glare at him, waiting for him to do it. Jon took a deep breath, adjusting his grip and destroyed the horn with Valyrian steel. The moment of impact, there was a burst of green and yellow flames as runes appeared then vanished. Leaving a horn in two pieces.

Jon, Gilly, and Samwell were shocked by what they saw. Seeing I was telling the truth that there was magic inside the horn. Maester Aemon stared in the direction where the destruction was. A deal's a deal, I removed the chains from my shackles and let Gilly free. The girl got up and ran towards Samwell, who embraced her.

I sighed, bowing my head, waiting for my death. Instead, it doesn't happen. Instead, Jon came over, avoiding eye contact, as he took one of the blankets and covered me with it since I was topless. My eyes widen, not expecting a sword in my chest, not a blanket.

"Samwell, take Gilly out," Maester Aemon advised.

Samwell nodded as he led her out.

"I'm sorry, Gilly," I managed to say before she was entirely gone.

We waited for a moment, then Jon became severe, "I need your help."

"And why should I help you?" I replied.

"Please, a man's life is in danger." He said.

"Who?" I asked in defeat.

"Mance," he answered. "Stannis says if Mance does not bend the knee by nightfall, then he'll have him burn."

I scowled, "The Red Woman mentioned it this morning."

"Is there a way to convince Mance to bend the knee?" Jon asked.

"The Free Folk don't kneel," I answered. "We're about respect and earning trust. Mance spent twenty years to gain that trust for a common enemy. If he bends the knee, he will lose respect from half of the clans."

"Will the Dires follow if he bends?"

I stared at him. When a chief is taken, the wife seizes control of the clan. Even if Fenrir would respect Mance's choice of bending the knee, my mother, Boudica, would not. Knowing my mother, when she gets word from this, she will plan an attack to get her family back and the Free Folk crossing. And what Fenrir said about many of the Free Folk spreading out in the Haunted Forest…it won't be long from now.

Jon realized I won't answer his question. He stood up, making his way out.

"Jon," I sighed.

He stopped at the door but didn't turn.

"The only way you can convince Mance is talking about the people," I said. "Otherwise, there is nothing else to say."

Jon nodded as he left.

I sighed then looked at Maester Aemon.

"Shall we get back to treating your wounds?" the old man suggested.

"You are one strange Crow," I muttered.

Maester Aemon merely smiled as he gestured me to lay down.

**.o0o.**

_Jon's POV_

What happened a moment ago Jon will never understand? It was clear Imogen is an enigma. She had a chance to gamble Gilly's life to escape; instead demanded he destroyed the horn. He didn't believe the horn help magical properties, just an antique Sam found. However, when Longclaw made contact and shatter the horn, he was mistaken. So, realizing a possible threat was destroyed brought some closure.

Yet it doesn't resolve the fact he needed to convince Mance to bend the knee. After a week, Mance refused to bend the knee. The Wildlings are being held prisoner on the other side of the Wall by Stannis's soldiers. There were more wildlings than Stannis's soldiers, but the horses gave the Southerners the advantage. Still, one order from Stannis and many lives are at risk.

And Jon thought the Northerners were stubborn. He was mistaken when crossing paths with the wildlings. They are stubborn as winter itself. Mance being the worse. Taking a deep breath, the guards let Jon in the room where Mance was being kept. Once he entered, he found the once King-Beyond-the-Wall, sitting on at a corner, staring out a window. Mance looked over his shoulder, seeing Jon.

"So here we are," Mance greeted.

"Here we are," Jon agreed.

"When we first met, you were my prisoner. And now, for our last meeting…" Mance sighed.

Jon came over but kept his distance, "This doesn't have to be our last meeting."

Mance puckers his lips, "No, but it will be."

"You know what Stannis wants?" Jon asked.

"He wants me to bend the knee. And he wants the Free Folk to fight for him," Mance answered then looked out the window. "I'll give him this much, he's bold."

"Shouldn't a king be bold?" Jon asked, confused.

"Oh, aye," Mance agreed, looking back at Jon. "I respect him. If he gets what he wants, I expect he'll be a better ruler than the fools sitting on the Iron Throne the last hundred years. But I'll never serve him."

Jon sighed, "You told me you weren't here to conquer. You told me your people have bled enough."

"That's right," Mance confirmed sternly. "I don't want them bleeding for Stannis Baratheon, either."

"You spent your life convincing 90 clans to come together for the first time in history. Thenns and Hornfoots, the Dires, the ice-river clans, even the giants. A life's work uniting them. You didn't do it for power. You didn't do it for glory. You brought them together to save them because none of them will survive the winter, not if they're north of the Wall. Isn't their survival more important than your pride?" Jon insisted.

Mance raised a cautious brow, "Pride?" He stood up, walking over to Jon. "Fuck my pride. This isn't about that." Then walked away.

Jon was getting annoyed, "Then bend the knee and save your people. "

Mance turned around, leaning a hand on a column, "They followed me because they respected me. Because they believed in me. The moment I kneel for a southern king, that's all gone."

"And how many tens of thousands are out there right now?" Jon asked. "How many women? How many children? And you won't go out and rescue them because why? You're afraid of looking afraid."

"Oh, I am afraid," Mance confirmed sharply. "No shame in that."

Jon sighed, knowing Mance would rather die than bend the knee. It was pointless. Then again, he feels like there is more than Mance or the chieftains are telling. It brought back when he went to the Wildling Camp at the Haunted Forest, seeing a quarter of the army barely there while the rest was missing. There was going to be another attack. But who is leading it? The Chieftain and Mance are here, and his short time at the Wildling Camp, he couldn't get knowledge of a possible leader. Mance knew the Wildlings will continue their campaign of going south.

Mance sat down, "How will they do it? Beheading? Hanging? "

Jon stared into his eyes, "They'll burn you alive."

Mance's eyes widen, not expecting that then looked down, "Bad way to go." He stumbled, trying to gain his composure, "I'll be honest with you. I don't want to die. And burnt to death. I don't want people to remember me like that, scorched and screaming. But it's better than betraying everything I believe."

"And what happens to your people?" Jon asked, walking closer. "You preserve your dignity and die standing, and they'll sing songs about you. You'd rather burn than kneel. The great hero. Until winter comes and the White Walkers come for us all, and there's no one left to sing."

"You're a good lad," Mance complimented. "Truly, you are. But if you can't understand why I won't enlist my people in a foreigner's war, there's no point explaining."

Jon sighed, giving the nod as he turned to leave.

"And Jon," Mance said.

He stopped by the door.

"If you want to fight in the real war, you will need Imogen by your side. She has seen the past and touched by the Three-Eyed Raven. She holds the key in everyone's survival."

"What is she?" Jon asked.

"The question is, who is she," Mance corrected.

Jon annoyed, knocked on the door, waiting for the guards to open the door. When they did, he decided to give the last words.

"I think you're making a terrible mistake."

Mance chuckles, "The freedom to make my own mistakes was all I ever wanted."

As usual, Mance had the final say.

**.o0o.**

_Imogen's POV_

Everyone was assembled at the courtyard at night. A pyre was assembled with a stake center of it, filled with straw and hay. This was wrong. No one should be executed by this. I stared and Fenrir and Tormund, who held the same expression as did the other chieftains. Death by Fire is wrong. An honorable man should not be tortured to death. A warrior deserves a quick death.

Mance was brought down in chains. The two soldiers escorted him to the Courtyard, standing before Stannis, Ser Davos, and the Red Woman. They stared at each other with respect and disdained. Their conversation faint barely making out what they were saying.

"Mance Rayder, you've been called the King-beyond-the-Wall. Westeros only has one King. Bend the knee, I promise you mercy." Stannis offered.

Silence engrossed the Courtyard. All eyes were on Mance, wondering what his decision will be. He stared at us then turn his attention to Jon, who stood with his brothers.

"Kneel and live," Stannis offered again.

Mance took a deep breath examining Castle Black, "This was my home for many years. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

Stannis nodded, gesturing his men to take Mance. They obliged, grabbing both of the man's arms and escorted him up on the pyre. Adjusting his arms, bound behind his back and tied to the stake. Once Mance was secured, they came down, while the Red Woman who I learned just now to be named Melisandre stepped forward in front of Mance to address the crowd.

"We all must choose. Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same. We choose light, or we choose darkness. We choose good, or we choose evil. We choose the true God or the false."

I glared at her referencing the Old Gods as the false. Our gods in the North have lived longer, surviving since the creation of Westeros. I may not know much about her religion, but it is clear her God is a violent God who demands and takes. Not listen and advised—the deities' conflict with one another. And sacrificing a soul to appeased a god is barbaric.

Melisandre was given a torch as she walked over to the pyre facing us.

"Free Folk, there is only one true King, and his name is Stannis. Here stands your King of lies. Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness." She warned and set the pyre on fire at every corner.

Mance kept his eyes on us Free Folk. His expression tried to be strong, yet I could see the fear in his dark eyes. The flames growing rapidly as his body instincts kicked in of fight or flight. The urge to flee from the flames, yet the ability to run gone, changing the flight to fear and desperation. I wanted to rush in, grab a dagger, and cut the ropes. Except, Fenrir kept a hold on me.

_"This is wrong,"_ I whispered in the old language.

_"I know, but he made his choice,"_ Fenrir murmured. "_We will avenge him when the time is right."_

_"We will,"_ Tormund promised.

I took a deep breath and started chanting the hero's prayer. Giving Mance his last rights of honor. The fire grew, consuming it's way closer to Mance. He closed his eyes, gasping and fidgeting. Doing whatever he can to tolerate the pain. All around, there were many emotions. Those who worship this fire god showed excitement and glee, many of the Crows held a neutral face, as many disturbed by it. Gilly, who stood by Samwell's side, curled herself closer to her partner as he tried to comfort her. I continue my prayer, not caring for the Southerners' disapproval. Mance is part of the Free Folk, his mother wild and father a crow. Taken as a youngling to be a crow only to discover his identity and returned to his people. A man who united ninety clans for the means of survival.

Mance was nearly crying out. The flames reaching his feet. When all of a sudden, an arrow struck him in the chest. Directly into the heart. His eyes widen, staring at the source of the archer. All eyes followed to see Jon standing there, lowering a bow. Mance gave a small smile as life escaped him, causing his body to give way. The fire engulfed the vessel cremating the dead instead of torching it.

A mercy kill…

The only question is…why would Jon do that?

* * *

**And now we are in season 5.**

**Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!**


	22. Chapter 21:Eagle's Guidance

_**Warg Maiden**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones**_

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual content.**_

* * *

**Chapter 21: Eagle's Guidance**

_Imogen's POV_

It has been a week since Mance Rayder's death. The Southerners knew they had crossed the line when they burned a man alive. My people were silent, yet we do not yield. None of the Chieftains have been cooperating. They knew of a plan. One Fenrir told me in private through Frigg. Orell has been going back and forth between the captives and those who left before Stannis's army arrived. The clans and tribes that headed west. Apparently, Mance ensures that Castle Black wasn't the only location to raid.

When word came of Jeor Mormont's death, a plan was made. Mance knew the Crows will have to vote for a new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. As the candidates will have to be selected, and the commanders at the three remaining Castles. No doubt, Alliser Thorne will be selected, and from what Orell told me, the commander at Shadow Castle Denis Mallister. Once Denis Mallister arrives at Castle Black, will the Free Folk attack the Shadow Castle. Eastwatch-by-the Sea is too hectic, and the frozen water making it complicated. But the Shadow Castle, based on the Wargs who have been spying, are low on men.

No doubt, my mother is out there plotting her revenge to get us. I wish I could send Frigg; except I'm using her to keep contact with Fenrir and Tormund. Skadi and Valko have been caged and guarded. There was nothing I can do but rely on Orell. The once warg, fighting strong in keeping his humanity. It amazes me how long he has been in control. Then again, he is a strong warg.

I sighed, feeling agitated. I've been held captive in this room. As much as it was a courteous from King Stannis since the flogging, the Red Woman has been keeping me away from my brothers and sisters. She thinks isolating me will have me falter, but she honestly doesn't understand the concept of warging. Mainly Maester Aemon would come in to check on my wounds, along with the big crow, Samwell, or is it Sam, the crow with two names. Gilly hasn't come in, then again, I wouldn't blame her after I threaten her life. Nor has Jon. After Mance's execution, I thought he would stop by and talk to me.

Don't get me wrong, I loathed the Crow after betraying us. I just think if I manipulate him just right, I can make him see the importance of the Free Folk's survival. All we want is to cross the Wall. Fuck, we would occupy abandon towns and villages than travel further south. We don't want politics or power. Just some land, and we will mind our own business. As if we would want to mate with a southerner.

Either way, only time can tell.

Orell landed by the window. No bars or glass were separating, so he merely stepped inside. It was night time. There were guards at the front door, and the window had no balcony being twenty feet from the ground. If I dare jump out to escape in my condition would result in a broken limb. I sat on the bed watching Orell, as he walked around, nipping at the food before spitting it out.

"Yeah, not the best food," I agreed.

He bobbed his head before flying from the table and onto the bed. He scooted over, nudging against my arm. His familiar being a massive eagle. His wingspan is almost the same length as a human. I stared at his talon feet, noting the damage they can do. His feathers being a mixture of brown, black, grey, and hints of gold and white. I petted the back of his neck, needing some comfort after what has transpired in the past few weeks. Orell noted this and made a gestured. It took me a moment to realize what he was doing, then assumed he wanted to connect. So, closing the shudders a bit, I laid down on the bed and warged inside Orell.

**.o0o.**

When I communicate with Orell, we both would be standing out in a field while his eagle flew around. This time, things are different. No longer were we in an field. Instead, we were in a hut. Furs all around, carved wooden poles, and mammoth tusk—a fire in the middle with a carved pot filled with a stew. There was a sense of comfort. No longer surrounded by the Southerner's architecture.

Across from the fire sat Orell.

"Well, this is different," I noted.

"I thought of doing something different," Orell said, taking a wooden spoon to stir the pot. "How is your back."

"It's sore, and flares up now and then," I said.

"I wish I ripped off that crow's hand, and eyes," Orell muttered.

I sighed, appreciating his thoughts. It was strange how close we have gotten, yet this relationship can never be—the same with Bloodraven. If Orell's vessel was still alive, I would have given him a chance. After Ygritte rejected Orell once, and the second time it was hard for him. When he came to me, with a sudden change of interest, I was cautious. Not wanting to be second best. But after having an episode, helping me get back to my senses. Later on, he offered to be there for me.

Sadly, his conscious is limited. When a warg soul is forced to be in their familiar or any animal's body, it will dwindle in time before all humanity vanished. As the human becomes the animal. It seems like any time I get close to a man in a romantic way, something happens. I might as well not take a partner.

Orell pulled out a bowl and poured some of the stew. He handed me the bowl, and I accepted and appreciated it. Even though eating food in this realm does not satisfy our physical forms stomach, it brings the illusion of comfort through the taste. Similar when smelling an herb and almost tasting it through the fragrance. I could taste the rabbit in the stew and the herbs.

"I miss wild stew," I murmured.

"Just water, meat, herbs, and mushrooms," Orell said.

I nodded, taking another bite, "Any news."

"Boudica has gathered all the wildlings in the west. The crow in charge has left. They are waiting until the new moon," Orell said.

"Good," I said. "We might have failed at Castle Black. But Shadow Castle maybe our peoples only hope."

"That is only half," he said. "Our people are still at Hardhome."

Hardhome…one of the free folk villages beyond the Wall. It was a fishing village on the sheltered bay along the shivering Sea, situated at the tip of Storrold's Point. Those who did not go west or managed to flee from Stannis. Many of the elders and families are there.

"I don't know what to say," I confessed.

Orell sighed, taking another bite from his bowl. What can we do for Hardhome? He was stuck in his eagle in order for his spirit to survive, and I was a prisoner.

"The southern king is trying to convince the Chieftains to bend the knee. Pardon us _wildlings_ if we fight in his war," I said in distaste.

Orell shook his head.

"Before the Three-Eyed Raven tossed me out, I saw a future of our people crossing the Wall. And look where we are. Divided and without a leader. Mance is dead. The majority of the Chieftains is captured. All because of Jon Snow." I growled out. "The true war is coming, and these southern fuckers care about a damn iron chair."

"You know what they say about iron," he murmured. "Iron doesn't bend, it breaks."

I sighed, staring at the stew, "I just don't know what to do. Dark Sister is gone. Skadi is locked up, and I don't have the energy. I'm supposed to be the Wildling Huntress. I've slaughter so many wights and White Walkers. I've killed many Crows who dare harm my people or I. And now I feel useless. I don't know what I can be anymore. Ygritte's dead, a part of me, is dead."

Orell nodded, thinking about what I've said.

My spirit has been damage.

Time passed as we ate in silence. Savoring the flavors even though there is no sustenance.

"How is your control?" I asked.

Orell took a deep breath, "I still have it. Yet I've been getting sidetracked from hunting urges."

"It makes sense," I said.

"Yet I miss some human needs," he added.

I snorted from that. He merely shrugged, being blunt about it. Still, losing your human vessel and trapped in a familiar is complicated. I wouldn't know what to do if Skadi and I were bound together. Unable to fully be with Skadi since she wouldn't in control. So, seeing Orell trying to be in control with his familiar, an apex predator. Their bond is not the same as Skadi and I. When I spend too much time in Frigg, I could sense when the owl needed control. Any day now, Orell will lose control of his humanity and be an animal.

Thinking about it, I set the bowl down and move around the pit. Orell stared at me, curious about what I was doing. I got close enough, sitting next to him, before pressing my lips against his. This surprised the warg not expecting it. I pulled back, staring into his blue eyes.

"Want to enjoy what humanity we both have left?" I asked.

Orell stared at me in question, "You sure about it?"

I nodded.

He gave a small smirk before leaning for a kiss. My fingers spread along his jaw, brushing his beard. It was an awkward first kiss, but Orell didn't push me away. Instead, he wrapped an arm across my back and spread his fingers from his other hand through my thick hair. The second kiss we found our bearings, being longer. I moaned into his mouth, and the vibration hummed against his teeth. As we kissed, I could feel the tickle of his mustache that it tempted me to dash my tongue over his top lip. The tiny hairs pricked teasingly at my skim.

Warmth suffused my senses as the tender contact thrilled my system. Shivers bumps coursed my arms. The pressure of his hand finding my hips urged me to make the kiss firmer. I closed my eyes and sank into him, straddling his lap. My hands pressed against his chest, gripping the patched shirt. Orell then slid his hand up my back and eased me against his body. His tongue dashed against mine. My fingers glided up into his hair.

We pulled back to breathe, our foreheads pressed together while panting. We stared at each other to be sure if we want to continue. At this rate, the animal instinct inside us took control. When you are a warg, and joined so many times with animals, that the instincts take control. We can maintain the desire, yet we quench for feeding, fighting, and fucking. And right now, our instincts want to pleasure one another. Our fate is uncertain.

Quickly, we were stripping each other of our clothes. Fabrics of leather and wool nearly tearing until we were both naked. My fingers glided over his chest, feeling the hairs that decorated his akin, not disguising the muscles. Orell wasn't muscular like most wildings, he was on the lean side, yet toned. Orell stared at my markings, his fingers tracing along with the runes and symbols from the Children of the Forest. The shades of blacks and greys, until reaching my left breast where the rune of life was. He leaned down and kissed my breast.

I sighed, bowing my head.

Orell leaned his head back up and kissed me again. His tongue dashed across my lips, I granted him access, pressing my mouth to his and dancing our tongues together. The taste of the stew and scent of musk filled my senses. We were creatures of nature. Our bodies touching each other, arousing our senses. The cold air of the wind engulfed our heated flesh.

I pressed my hard nipples against his chest, and Orell moaned and glided his hand up to the back of my thighs and groped my ass. I nuzzled my mons against his groin, and feeling his erection starting to rise. I reached for his cock, thrusting it up from the nest of curls, and clasped it firmly. It was hot and solid. Orell groaned, bowing his head into my shoulder, sucking on a pulse. Until leaning me back some to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it, as his whiskers stimulate. My core hummed, and toes curled.

Removing my hand from his cock and rocked against him, eliciting a deep moan from him at my breast. His free hand thumbed a nipple and squeezed it, and I responded with a gasp. Already I was wet and ready. Pushing Orell straight on his back, he complied with a slight smirk. I gripped his cock and squeezed the head of it, noting the thick fold of foreskin. A few strokes up and down seemed to coax it impossibly harder. I pressed him against my clit, slicking it and sliding it lower to teased at my opening

"Imogen…" he groaned.

"Is the wolf teasing the eagle?" I murmured.

Orell growled, grasping my hips tightly, almost bruising. I chuckled; being considerate, I guided him inside me. Orell didn't hesitate and thrust upward. I gasped from the sudden intrusion. His entry being solid and hot. I rested my hands on his chest, nails digging into his flesh, causing him to hiss. We adjusted to each other for a moment.

Once we were comfortable, I started rocking my hips. Starting at a steady pace, until it increased. Every time I came down, Orell would thrust up. I panted, feeling him inside me. It has been so long, even though my body in this realm doesn't have the same complication or discomfort if this was reality. My body still a maiden. But here, there is no discomfort.

After several more thrusts, my walls began to tremble to indicate an orgasm building up. Orell sensed this as he turned us around, so he was on top. He leaned on his palm, meeting my gaze. I wrapped my legs around his waist while my hands on his back. He thrust hard and deep, striking a spot inside me that I came. Orell groaned, as my walls clenched around him until thrusting a few more times and came. Our bodies tenses then relaxed.

He pulled out and laid next to me. We were both covered in sweat. I turned to look at him as he still trying to recover. Our people don't get to be intimate when not married. Usually, most marriages are through the stealing of the bride. However, some would rather be intimate and meet others before seeking the partner.

"Feeling human?" I asked.

Orell scoffed as he turned to his side, staring at me, "You?"

"No longer stressed," I replied.

He adjusted himself, "Give Boudica time. I mean, she is your mother."

"She's one she-wolf you don't want to mess with," I agreed.

"And you have that same courage," he reminded.

I sighed, rolling onto my stomach, "Not unless the Crows or Stannis decides to execute us. Especially when Shadow Castle is going to be taken soon."

Orell sighed, knowing I was right.

We were doomed either way.

Still, Orell tried to distract me through the night. It was nice. It brought out the possibilities in what could have been if Jon hadn't killed him. Yes, Orell was older, but we Free Folk don't care about age. There is an age limit of crossing the line, yet we honestly don't care. Just as long it is not an adult and a child. Some relationships are not acceptable.

He traced his hand on the mural on my back, "What does this mean?"

"It is a vision of the future," I answer. "One the Raven saw and thought this should be the only clue I should know."

"The Three-Eyed Raven never let me see the future," I sighed, tracing the furs. "All those years under the weirwood tree, I only saw the past. The beginning of Westeros, to the wars of the Southerners."

"You had to learn about the southerners?"

"He thought I should know all the key players, the warriors involved," I sighed. "The only problem is…the future is never secured. All I know is that there's a wolf, a raven, and a dragon at a weirwood tree."

Orell nodded, tracing the part of the dragon, "I've never seen a fire-lizard."

"They are more vicious than an ice bear," I said. "Yet tamed by spoiled riders."

"Not like us," I murmured. "We live in the true north, ice runs in our veins. We fight to survive, a blessing when the gods provide food from the earth. Thousands of years, we fight to survive, and the past few hundred years, our silent enemy wakes."

"That is why you will make it," Orell assured. "You are a fighter."

"You think so?" I asked.

Orell nodded, "Just don't let that pretty face Crow get in the way."

I snorted, "As if I would have interest in Jon Snow. After everything, he has done. He is the reason we are in this mess."

Orell nodded again.

"I should have stabbed him higher," I muttered. "At least the Horn of Winter is destroyed."

"That's one thing we don't want," he agreed.

I looked at him, "Before we raided the old man, you said you were there for me. What did you mean?"

He sighed as he adjusted himself, "I was a fool to think Ygritte would take me back again. I was holding on, yet I saw you. A wild spirit who knows what we are. You know what a warg goes through. You are beautiful and fierce and wild. I just couldn't see it in time."

"You know, you would have to prove yourself to Skadi," I jest.

He snorted, "I know."

I sighed, "Sadly, we can't be."

Orell leaned over and pecked my shoulder, "I stay as long as I can."

I bit my lip, for I have been in a relationship before. Spiritual romance does not last. I've been hurt because of Bloodraven and the Three-Eyed Raven. And their betrayal has made it hard to fall in love again. My heart is frozen. The only love I have left is for my family. My parents and my brothers. Along with my familiars Skadi and Frigg. It would be a long time before I think about a companion.

"You better return to your body," he advised. "And get some rest."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I'll still be there for you," he assured.

"You're one strange warg," I said.

Orell cradled my cheek, "The reason why I stay, is to let you know if you were in my situation, you know how long you have."

I cradle his cheek, "You deserve better."

We kissed one last time until Orell disconnected the link.

**.o0o.**

My soul returned to my body as I stared at Orell, who blinked a few times. The eagle adjusted as he made a nest on the bed. I genuinely appreciate Orell. If his Vessel hadn't died, I might have given Orell a chance. He understands the strains a warg goes through and his commitment to the cause. The Gods have their reason. I just pray the gods are on our side against the Others.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please leave a review**


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